Deception's Uncommon Fate
by Remarkable1
Summary: Tony Stark is a manipulative asshole that manages to nag two of his best friends - Clint Barton - and Hermione Granger - into spending some time together. They get by with a little help from their friend. Then break his nose again.
1. Chapter 1

Deception's Uncommon Fate

"So, Clint, how long has it been since the divorce?"

"Fuck you, Tony. I told you a thousand times not to fuckin' bring it up."

"C' mon, man! You've been moping around here for days. You never come out on the party deck, no pool, beer, what gives?"

Clint ran his hands through his hair and scrubbed them over his eyes, making a face at Tony. "Maybe I just don't feel like hanging out with a bunch of shit-faced super-heroes. It gets old after a while, ya' know? I got work to do. Now leave me alone."

"Hey! That's not fair, Legolas, we don't always drink to get drunk. It's an All-American hang-out pastime!"

"Dude. Your minimum down-age is a bottle of Vodka and not the cheap shit. Like a billion proof. Don't try to pull that shit with me."

Tony followed Clint like a puppy around the penthouse, begging and whining.

"You need to loosen up, relax, live a little. Get laid." He shrugged, downing a shot that he seemed to have procured out of thin air.

"You don't know what I need. So stop guessing."

"Every guy needs a nice, hard, dirty screw once in awhile. It keeps the blood flowing and the bad juju away. And you, my friend, are wallowing in the bad juju."

"Even if I wanted to get laid – and I don't!" Clint interrupted when Tony raised his finger to emphasize his point. Clint could hear the other man's jaw click shut and felt a small stab of satisfaction. "And I don't, there isn't anyone around here I'd even consider."

Tony looked hurt. "Not even me?"

"ESPECIALLY not you," Clint deadpanned, trying to gather his shit and leave Tony's whining behind for the day.

"You wound me, pal."

"You'll live."

"If I found you a hot, available, clean chick that wanted to fuck your brains out, would you at least consider it?" Tony continued to wheedle.

Clint dropped his head in defeat, and Tony knew he had won- again.

"Fine. If you find a smokin' hot girl that isn't more than ten years younger than me, that gags for arrows and leather, set me up."

"I am ON it like syphilis on a whore!" Tony enthused.

Clint slapped his hand to his forehead and squinched his eyes shut tight. "Could you just not – for once – wax poetic about venereal diseases?"

"Spoilsport."

"I gotta go."

"Be here tomorrow at eight in the evening, sharp. Bathe, and put on some of that sexy cologne."

"It's aftershave – and how would you know – nevermind. I don't want to know."

Clint made way for the elevator and spun around. "You seem awful sure of yourself. What if I don't like her?"

Tony shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Then Ghost her. Tell her you had an emergency come up. Pretend you need to check on your grandma. Text me, call me Betty, and I'll write you some old lady shit for you to sob over. Hook, line, sinker, BOOM. Works like a charm every time."

"Are you fuckin' serious? You actually use that on girls?"

"Deadly. And yes. Now go. I got some pussy rustling to attend to."

"Only you, Stark. Don't make me regret this."

"Oh, you won't. This time tomorrow you'll be at least two nuts into some hot cunt."

"It's gotta be clean. That's non-negotiable."

"Of course!"

"And protected. I'm going bankrupt paying for the three kids I got. Not that I'm complaining, you know I'd do anything for them. I just don't need more."

"Assured."

"And-"

"Just fuckin' go, okay? Relax, do your archer thing, then spruce up, watch some porn, then get over pronto at eight and let some horny bitch make your eyes cross, and your toes curl."

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this. Fine. Alright then. Later."

"' Asta la vista, Lover Boy."

(Tony on his cell phone the following day, his side of the conversation only.)

"No….. well, yeah… uh-huh…. I called them already! ….. I don't want an escort agency!... because the client isn't into that, and a hooker wouldn't be able to pull off the act. It has to be natural…No, he's into safe sex…..I don't give a shit if you think that's boring. Look, are you going to help me or not?... Fine. Eat shit, and have a nice fucking day."

Tony angrily hung up on the asshole he'd been speaking with., swearing up a storm.

Having walked in on the tail end of the one-sided conversation, Hermione turned right back around and scowled when Tony caught sight of her.

"Toots! Get back in here!"

Rolling her eyes, she groaned and conceded, her high heels clicking sharply over tile, tossing her handbag onto the bar. Straddling the barstool, she slapped the bar and said, "Hit me."

Tony sidled over and poured her a shot.

She slammed it.

"Hit me again."

More alcohol poured, and she slammed that one too.

"God, I needed that. Thanks, Tony."

"Hard day?" he pried, pouring himself a drink.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. is going to give me gray hair by the time I'm thirty."

"Ooh. Not a good look on you, Granger."

"Thanks. Some days I wonder if I should ditch them and move back to jolly old England."

"Nick would be so far up your ass the shit would get jealous."

"Yeah, I'm aware. Hence, why I stay."

"Come work for me."

"For the one-hundredth time, NO. Not interested in being the four billionth notch on your bedpost."

"Hey! That's not fair! I'm a great lay, and for your information, I do not have that many notches. It's like, four billion and one."

"Hmm, endearing. Do you own stock in a hospital for all the STD's you pick up and spread around?"

"C' mon, Granger, that's not nice."

"You're not a nice guy, Tony. You're an asshole. A loveable asshole, but still, the number one, grade A asshole of the century that I know and love."

"Do I get an award?"

"You wish." Hermione kicked her heels off, then pulled a sore foot onto a knee, rubbing at a sore spot. "Oh, shit, that feels so good to get those bloody shoes off. I hate high heels. Cushioning Charms only go so far."

"Why wear them?"

"They make my legs look killer. Plus, job security."

"I like your style."

"Pig."

"Bitch."

"Cad."

"Cunt."

"Asshole."

"Angel."

"Ironface."

"Stranger Granger."

They both cracked a smile at the same time, treasuring this weekly bantering session. The two were good friends, and the deal was whoever cracked first bought a round at the next outing.

"Come here, toots."

Hermione hopped off the stool, climbed onto the bar and slid her ass over its smooth surface.

Tony scooped her up and gave her a big hug. Setting her down, the pair wandered to a leather sofa and plopped down at opposite ends.

"God, I miss you, Shorty," Tony teased. "Never get to see enough of you since you left for S.H.I.E.L.D. training."

"I'm trying to get assigned back here again, but the new sub-director is a dick. He hates women, I swear."

"Why didn't you say something? I'll have the douche-canoe outta there lickety-split."

"No, Tony, don't interfere."

"Aw, you're no fun, Shortstop."

"I am fun. Just not by manipulating everyone I don't like. I like to get around under my own steam."

"Life's a bitch."

"And then you die, I know."

They fell silent. Tony got up and grabbed two cold bottles of water, tossing one to Hermione.

Sipping on it, she asked, "What the hell was that conversation I walked in on?"

Tony gave her the evil side-eye and didn't answer, getting up and wandering to the window, looking down at the specks of light and people far below. "Traffic sucks."

"Answer the question, Tony."

"I'm in the mood for cheeseburgers. Do you want a cheeseburger? I know this great place that delivers the best fucking cheeseburgers on the planet. I could have them here in like, twenty minutes."

"Tony."

"And then some fries and a Coke sounds perfect. Oh, I can't forget their kiddie special. I'll just throw the food out in that one, but the toys are awesome. I'll give the toy to Thor. He's funny about collecting those damn Happy Meal thig-a-ma-jigs."

"TONY!"

"WHAT?"

"Answer the damn question! And fuck ordering McDonald's. If you think they have the best cheeseburgers, you're deranged."

"Fine. Damn, darlin', I was trying to spare you the gory details."

"Don't bother. I put my big girl knickers on today. I can handle it."

He shot her another strange look, then away once more, toying with his cell phone.

"Okay. So. In a nutshell, I'm trying to get Barton laid. Easy, right? Tony 'The Playboy' Stark brings up a bimbo, Clint knocks a couple of nuts loose, everyone's happy, right?"

Silence.

Tony cleared his throat and continued. "So, for some reason, Lady Luck flipped me off, and Barton will be here in an hour, and I've got no one for him to fuck."

Hermione shrugged. "So? Call him and cancel."

"I can't!" Tony complained, the whine returning to his voice. "That makes me look like I can't deliver. I had to ride Clint's ass pretty hard to get him to go along with this."

"I would've paid to see that."

"Fuck off, Shorty. So I'm stuck. Got any leads?" he asked hopefully, acting crushed when she popped out, "Nope, aaaaaaddd that's my cue to leave."

"Shorty, wait!"

"No, Tony. I can smell the trouble brewing all over you, and I want no part of it."

Tony dashed in front of her. "Please, pretty, pretty please? If it helps, I heard Legolas is a demon in the sack."

"No, Tony, now move."

He did but followed her as she collected shoes, bag and light jacket, tossing her empty water in the recycle bin.

"I've got a rep to maintain!" he tried again.

"Not my problem."

"I thought you were my friend."

"Not THAT good of a friend." She'd neatly side-stepped him but managed to get cornered by the elevator.

"Friends don't let friends drink and drive."

"Friends don't ask friends to pity fuck their other friends."

"It's not a pity fuck! Clint's a nice guy!"

"I'm on break from dating."

"Shortstop. Listen to me. It's not a date. It's a roll in the sack. He's got some pretty ripped muscles."

"I'm not shagging Barton."

"He likkkeessss youuu," Tony sing-songed.

"I've met him exactly once. Isn't he married anyway?"

"Divorced."

"Same thing, too much baggage. Now move out of my way, or I'll hex you."

"Dammit Granger, come' on. Do me this one eensy-teensy favor. Pleeassssseee!"

"I'm going to count down from five, and if you haven't moved out of my goddamn path, your ass is going to make the acquaintance at the end of my wand."

"C' mon, Granger! Be a sport!"

"Five, four…"

"I'll owe you a favor!"

"Three, two-and-a-half…" she drew her wand. Tony looked at it nervously.

"Two favors."

"Two, one-and-a-half…."

"Three favors and the penthouse for a week."

"One…. One-half…. Anddd…." She raised her wand.

Tony snatched it and tossed the damn thing away. "Hold up! My final offer, I promise! Hope to die, cross my heart. If you say no deal, I respect you. I leave you alone."

"I hate you."

"Thanks, Toots! Okay. Four favors. Unlimited requests – no restrictions on the type of favor. Two weeks at the penthouse. All expenses paid vaca to England when you get time, and unlimited use of the company car for a year."

He paused, raising his eyebrows in what he hoped was a winning expression.

Hermione crossed her arms, tapped her foot, and narrowed her eyes at him. Finally, she countered, "Throw in a performance starring you – no cameras. In a bikini of my choice, pole-dancing at Thor's birthday party. A three-minute show. No nudity, no touching."

"You gotta be fucking kidding me!"

"Take it or leave it, Iron-Face."

"That's humiliating!"

"K- Bye." She summoned her wand and Tony recanted.

"Okay! Fine! You win, I'll do it!"

"You'd better. I'm not letting you off the hook, Stark."

"Does this mean you'll do it?"

Hermione sighed and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

"Really?"

"Really really."

"I owe you, doll, you're the best."

"Now leave so I can shower and transfigure my dress into something more appropriate."

"Be nice to Clint, he's hurting."

"We're all hurting, Sherlock."

"No, really. Try to act like you're attracted to him. Fake an orgasm. Whatever it takes."

"God! Don't you have any dignity?" she said with disgust.

"No, but I'm flattered you asked. Will you be okay?"

"A bit late for chivalry."

"You sure?"

"Yes! I'm fine! Okay, so just leave! Barton's cute and cut and I'm sure it'll go great. Do NOT forget about our deal."

"Knock one out for me, Shortstop!"

"FUCK OFF AND GO!"

"I'm going! I'm going! J.A.R.V.I.S., I'm out. Get whatever Clint and Granger need, then lock up."

"Goodnight, sir."

The elevator bell rang, and Clint appeared, thumbs hooked through his belt loops, looking adorably rugged and nervous.

Tony jumped in and pushed Clint out with a hard shove.

"You kids have fun! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Then the playboy was gone – finally.

The words running through both of their minds at that moment were, 'Annoying, nosy, and pushy little shit.'

Clint looked everywhere but at her. Finally, he cleared his throat. "So uh, you and me, eh?"

"I won't bite," she replied, leaning against a table, arms folded.

"Say what?"

"It's polite to look at the person you're addressing," she scolded mildly.

His head snapped around. "Yeah, sorry. Nervous, you know?"

Hermione sighed. "Yeah, I know."

Clint looked unsure, so she said, "I'm going to shower. I'll be out in ten, relax, get a drink or something."

"Okay."

He stood rooted to the spot until she disappeared into the bathroom than ran to the sink behind the bar and promptly threw up.

Cleaning out his mouth and downing three shots, Clint looked at himself in the mirror. "Okay. It's cool. Liquid courage, but no more. Whiskey dick is NOT cool. And there's a fucking sexy, hot, British agent naked in the shower. You can do this."

The bathroom door opened and closed, and his heart leaped into his throat. Very low, he whispered to himself quietly, "I cannot do this. God, please don't let me barf up the alcohol."

Hermione sensed his distress by the hard, hunched set of his shoulders and decided to make a move. The guy looked ready to bolt, and after all of the effort she'd put in, a hot shag was looking better and better by the minute.

Clint jumped when she wrapped her arms around his middle from behind.

"Hi," she said into his back. "You okay?"

Clint closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing and trembling stomach. "Yeah, It's just, gimme a sec. This isn't how I normally treat women."

Hermione laughed lightly against his shirt. "No problem. I agreed to it, so I know this is a one-time thing. You're fine."

'Oh, shit, she feels nice back there,' his brain supplied.

She kept talking, "Life's little adventures, sure to keep things interesting."

"Sure." Bravely, his rough hand lowered to cover hers. "You good with this?"

"I'm not following you," she said, trying hard to be patient. He really was adorable, if too much of a gentleman.

"Sleeping with a guy you hardly know?"

She squeezed him a bit, her cheek still against his back. "You're not a total stranger. I trust Tony, and Tony trusts you."

"Tony Stark is a crazy bastard with even crazier ideas."

"So? Look. If you don't want to do this, it's fine, no pressure."

Clint was quick on the uptake to deny. "No! I mean, I do want to do this. I'm just so nervous I'm going to fuck up."

"Go slow, then. Let's just, take things a little at a time. See what happens. Nature taking its course and all that."

"Okay. I can do that, I think."

But he didn't move, so she goosed his ass.

"Hey!"

"I thought you were trying to turn into a statue."

"I'm sorry. I'm lousy at small talk."

"Then, don't talk. Just kiss me. You do want to kiss me, yeah?"

That seemed to get his attention and grow a pair of balls, his entire attitude shifting from scared and hesitant to interested, horny male.

"Hell, yes. I can't stop thinking about what you looked like in the shower."

"Maybe we'll try that later. For starters, let's sit on the sofa."

Now Clint felt more comfortable. If she took control, he didn't need to overthink, which was a good thing, because the rate at which the blood was leaving his brain left him a bit light-headed.

He sat down slowly, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights when she brushed past his knees.

"Relax," she soothed, then in one smooth motion, pulled her shirt over her head, torso clad only in a black lace bra.

"Holy. Shit." Clint exclaimed softly, his eyes finally on the prize, not looking at all shy now.

"Thank you, I think." She smiled, then boldly pushed his chest, so he was sat against the back of the sofa cushions, then straddled his lap in one smooth motion.

"Touch me," she urged with a bit of husk in her voice. Leaning in and closing her eyes, she placed soft, chaste kisses at the corner of the archer's mouth.

When Hermione ran a hand through his hair, Clint's motor kicked into gear, because his hands turned into an octopus, all over her back, bottom, thighs, belly, and breasts.

He embraced her, opening to her kissing, tongue snaking out to join the tangle of hers.

She let out a sexy moan and ground down into his lap, pleased with the substantial bulge hardening rapidly beneath her hot core.

"You call this slow?" he gasped out between kisses.

"If I had my way, your pants would be off and my mouth over your cock. So yes, this is slow."

"Jesus Fucking Christ. Where have you been all my life?"

"In England."

The banter ended, and he urged her to move, abrading her sensitive skin under her skirt, pulling her over his impressive erection.

Highly sensitive and primed from months of celibacy, Hermione's first orgasm was on her swift and hard, and she cried out into his mouth, wetting through her panties with release.

"Oh, God, I needed that," she sighed, slumping against him.

Looking into his eyes, she could tell he was overwhelmed and ready to either lose his first load or run screaming.

Moving quickly, she took the initiative. "Your turn!" Then gave him no time to think or react, wandlessly vanishing his clothing and the rest of hers, startling him badly.

Clint almost dumped her off his lap in surprise.

"What the fuck! How did you do that?"

"Settle down. I'm a witch, remember?"

He seemed to think about it for a second and relaxed minutely. "Uh, no, but that explains a lot."

"Are you doing okay?"

"Granger, I'm going to blow about thirty seconds after I'm inside any part of you and you're going to think I suck."

Hermione laughed then, shaking out her long, thick curls until they splayed down his chest. Clint closed his eyes.

"No, you just need to get the easy one out of the way. Then we'll work on earning the rest."

He nodded helplessly, and her heart went out to the guy. Tony must have really annoyed him to death to get the modest man set up like this.

"Let me help you with this," she purred, sliding down in one move to her knees in the plush, decorative carpeting, taking his big cock into her mouth before he could protest.

"Oh My Fucking God!" he exclaimed, and closed his eyes in ecstasy, gently guiding her lips rapidly over his dick.

Sure enough, thirty seconds later, as predicted, Clint ejaculated strongly into her mouth, ready to die happy. Then his pleasure rocketed to the ninth power, feeling her swallow his entire load without missing a drop.

"Mm, nice, Thank you."

"You're thanking me?" he asked her incredulously.

"Yes. You are fucking hot. I can't wait to fuck your brains out."

"I think I'm either dreaming or the luckiest bastard alive right now."

"Probably a bit of both. Now hush. There is some serious fucking afoot."

Taking his soft dick in hand, Barton's breathing hitched as she slowly, gently worked it, playing with and licking his balls until the entire area swelled with desire, cock so hard it pressed up against his lower abdomen when she let it go.

This was the turning point. 'Shy, nervous' Clint fucked off, and 'confidant, dominant, horny' Clint kicked in.

"God, you've got a beautiful body. I love your tits. I've never been sucked like that before."

"My turn. How do you want me?"

"Seriously? Lay on the floor. I want to see your face the first time you come on my cock."

"Shit, Barton. Keep talking dirty to me like that, and I'll let you do whatever you want."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. Now fuck me."

After she lay in position, he settled over her, preparing himself by lubing his length through her soaked folds. "So fuckin' hot. I'm hard for you, so fuckin' hard my balls ache. Sexy fucking woman. Gonna fuck you and come so hard in your beautiful body."

Clint stiffened, an aggravated look on his face. "Shit. I didn't bring any condoms. Goddamn. How could I forget the rubbers?" He started to get up, and she pulled him back down, much to his surprise.

"Stop!" she commanded, and he froze instantly. "Witch, remember?"

He nodded.

"I'm on oral contraceptives and cast a contraception preventative on my womb and ovaries. I'm clean, and if my word is enough for you, and you're clean, I trust you to be honest with me."

Clint studied her hesitantly, unsure. It was the type of situation that led to the conception of his first kid. But then his ex-wife wasn't a witch in the real sense of the word.

"You sure?"

"Yes. I want you so much."

"Me too, baby. Okay, well, if you're sure, here we go."

Clint closed his eyes and eased the head of his thick cock into her vaginal opening, and they both let out strained noises of pleasure. She gasped when his hips hitched forward, sliding into her all the way.

"I can't stop, Granger, I have to move," he stated with near-desperation.

"Fuck me," she urged him again. "Give it to me good and hard. I want to feel you for days."

Clint felt like his head was going to explode. This was a new level of erotic, and he fucked her like a demon-possessed, her legs over his well-muscled forearms, their pelvic motions growing slippery and noisy.

The indecent squish of cock in a juicy cunt drove him mad, her heat and tight pussy spurring him on faster.

"Granger, fuck. Oh, holy fuck. I'm gonna come – I'm sorry," and he threw his head back, lungs heaving as he shoved another substantial load inside of her. "So good, fuck, so fuckin' good," he whispered.

When Clint was spent, he immediately lowered his body until his mouth was at her clit. Inserting two fingers into her messy pussy, he sloshed through the mix, stimulating her to the best of his ability.

It didn't take her long. Hermione was already teetering on edge, and within minutes of his twiddling and clit-licking, she had a death grip on his short hair, pulling painfully at the roots. Barton didn't care.

He vowed to fuck, eat, suck, lick, kiss, and worship this goddess until she told him to stop. This was the hottest fuck he'd ever had by leagues and wasn't going to waste the opportunity, believing it was a one-time thing, so he thoroughly planned on getting his fill.

The girl let out a perfectly beautiful scream, shattering several of Tony's expensive collector shot glasses.

Suffocating him, she ground her pussy into his face, twisting for maximum friction, riding his nose, chin, and mouth like a hobby horse while her come leaked from her well-oiled cunt, squirting him in glorious ecstasy.

He caught as much of it as he could in his mouth, licking and sucking, stimulating her for all he was worth until she fell limp onto the carpet. Allowing critical respiration to push oxygen into his starved lungs proved most beneficial.

Clint was rock fucking hard again, amazed what this woman did to him – her effect on his libido completely insane.

"Gonna fuck you again," he warned her, glorying in the soup of slick they'd created. Gritting his teeth, jaw locked in ecstasy, Clint took a savage satisfaction knowing it was his come that he was fucking back into her.

If he hadn't already come twice, he'd have blown his balls again by now. But he was getting tender, his prick sure to be raw for days, unused to this much action.

Granger started responding, locking her ankles around his hips as he rhythmically slapped against her, glorying in the heavy slap of his ball sack against her sweet, sexy ass. Clint kissed her like it was their last night on Earth.

She worked her feet, pushing on his chest with her hands. Releasing her, gaze feral with lust, he watched her turn onto all fours and slap her own ass. "Fuck me from behind, Barton."

"Yes, ma'am," he countered, jamming his dick back into her in record time, panting hard at the vivid image of his cock streaked with the white evidence of her come all over his cock, balls, and lower belly.

"Oh, shit, you're gonna make me blow it again. You hot piece of British ass! Oh, Holy Fuck!"

His back locked, hips going into overdrive, licking the salt from her sweat on her back, perspiring a river onto Tony's expensive carpet.

"Almost there!" she gasped, voice rising an octave. "Harder, Clint! Bust me!"

Barton yelled, gripping her ass cheeks, insanely aroused, her flesh bubbling between his tightly clutching fingers.

His whole body felt like it was on fire, and he rejoiced to feel her cunt tighten and contract around him one last time, giving him permission to let go through the stream of come and screams of his name on her gorgeous lips.

Clint let free agonized sounds, desperate to release, the instinct to breed taking over as he primally let her juiced cunt milk him in a fist of velvet ecstasy.

Pleasure rising, he cried out, "Granger! Hermione! Such a good pussy! Oh – oh, fuck you all night – oh, shit. Yes, yes, yes."

His hips gave her a series of erratic thrusts, and then he threw back his soaking head, pulling tightly against her and holding himself there in a death lock, the orgasm erupting through him, longer-lasting and more intense than the previous two.

Clint was shooting dust at the point, but holy fuck, what a woman. He knew he'd always treasure this night of passion with her.

Coming down, he tiredly pulled out and collapsed next to her, pulling her body to him, sweaty cheek laid on his chest.

"Sorry. I'm done. That's all I got," he admitted when his breathing had calmed.

"Same. Yeah. I'm pretty raw."

"Me too."

"Let's clean up and raid Tony's minibar and fridge."

"Mmkay."

Instead, they fell asleep for a couple of hours, then shared an intimate shower, kissing slowly, deeply, like lovers, bathing one another. Then they ate in exhausted silence, too tired to talk.

At last, it was time to part ways. Two in the morning.

"Thank you. I had a really great time. You were fantastic. Phenomenal."

Hermione's stomach sank at the thought it really was just a one night stand. Clint was a fuck demon in the rough. She knew she would crave him now, but also that the feeling would pass if she worked enough overtime to ignore it until it faded.

"Yeah. You were great too. I'm happy we got together. I haven't felt this wonderful in a long while."

She walked back into the elevator, lifting her hand and giving him a little wave with her fingers.

He waved back, a short rise and fall of his hand, a smile and something more in his eyes that disappeared as the elevator doors closed on Hermione.

Immediately Clint swore at himself for letting her go without asking her out again. She'd really looked hopeful.

Then, later, he decided it was for the best. She was too good for a damaged fucker like him anyway. Clint fell asleep on Tony's sofa and left right before the asshole showed up for work the next morning.

The place reeked of stale sex, musky and pungent. Tony inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring. "Smells like a successful night."

Grinning evilly, he paged over the intercom. "Thor, I need you in my office, five minutes."

Setting up two friends for an explosive night of sex – Golden. Pure, solid gold.

Embarrassing the God of Thunder – Priceless.

Tony may have been getting older, but he still had it. Waiting impatiently, his camera phone was ready the second Thor stepped off the lift, the smell hitting him almost instantly.

The video of his reaction went viral.

Huh. Gods were good for something, after all.

By the end of the following week, Tony was thoroughly frustrated and pissed off. His cappuccino machine was broken, another billion-dollar business deal had dried up and the investors turned international fugitives, and neither Barton or Granger would give up the dirty on their hot date.

It didn't help that he was still nursing a repaired nose after Thor broke if when Tony crossed the line the morning following the set-up and releasing the reaction to the internet. THAT had hurt.

And Granger had actually hexed him – HIM! Tony Fucking Stark!

It wasn't in Tony's nature to give up the ghost, but this week had kicked his ass up and down New York and mopped it clean with his ball sack.

The billionaire literally fucking gave up when he discovered his bar stash emptied for the third time that week.

"I'm going to KILL Loki! J.A.R.V.I.S.!"

"Yes, sir?"

"Is there a way to keep the God of Stealing All Of My Expensive Alcohol, out of it?"

"I am afraid not, sir. He is quite manipulative."

"Just fuckin' great."

"If I may, I do have a suggestion."

"Shoot," Tony quipped.

"If you were to stock the bar with cheap alcohol or non-alcoholic, sometimes referred to as 'sparkling,' beverages, it may serve as a deterrent to future raids on your property by the younger Mr. Odinson."

"Here they call me the genius. You're a rock star, J.A.R.V.I.S!"

"Thank you, sir."

A weekend away did wonders for Tony's spirits.

Rubbing his hands together, the following Monday Stark set about doing what he did best – meddling.

On Wednesday, Granger Apparated directly into his office and slammed a packet of paperwork right in front of his nose, causing him to jump.

"Fuck me, Granger! You aren't supposed to presto in here like that. Rules, remember?"

"Screw the rules, Tony. You never follow them anyway. I want to know what the fuck this is."

Hermione swept an arm across his desk, a variety of essential things spilling onto the floor. Then she shoved the file under his nose.

Tony put his hands up in surrender, eyeballing the mess, her unyielding, angry witch face, and replied, "Okay. Let's deal with this, shall we? It's not like I was doing anything else important."

"Now, Tony."

"Okay! Okay." He picked up the paperwork, glanced at it, and tossed them back to his desk almost instantly, leaning back in his chair, folding his hands onto his stomach. Then he gave her a sincere look as she pressed her lips together tightly in irritation.

"These are your transfer papers, Shortstop. You're now a very well-paid employee of Stark Industries. Welcome home."

"I warned you not to interfere. Did it ever occur to your over-sized ego that I may have been perfectly happy where I was?"

Tony blew her a raspberry, spitting slightly. "Come off it. You hated working for S.H.I.E.L.D. You love me, game over. Welcome back to the boys' club." He cockily held out a hand to her, and she grabbed it, squeezing with a measure of strength that belied her petite stature.

"Ow. Now you're hurting me," he complained, not pulling away.

"I'll back off breaking every bone in your hand when I'm satisfied with the answer to the question – What exactly are you expecting of me in my new role?"

Tony glanced desperately at his hurting hand, trying to gauge just how quickly he could overpower her.

Hermione casually observed his desperate calculations and squeezed harder. "I keep my wand up my sleeve. Try me."

"Ow! Dammit, Granger!"

"Talk, Stark."

"Goddammit! Okay! You have free reign to work on whatever you want. Unlimited resources, no rules, just try not to kill anybody important. Employee turnover is a bitch."

She abruptly let go of his hand and blinked several times in genuine surprise. "Really?"

Tony bent over at the waist, shaking some feeling back into the injured limb.

"Yeah. Really really. Fuck. I think you cracked something."

"Give it here you big baby."

"No. I don't need your help, meanie," he crabbed, standing up and sidling sway from her.

"Fuck's sake. Accio Tony Stark!"

"HEY!"

He bodily collided with her, and they fell into a heap, his protesting quite loud and persistent.

She firmly elbowed him into silence, spelling his hand better, dis-engaging herself from him and then righting the mess she'd made of his desk.

"You're evil, Shortstop. I never should have underestimated you."

"Quite right." She folded her arms under her breasts and cleared her throat when he stood, his eyes glued to her tits, guiltily flicking them to her face when he noticed her noticing him noticing her.

"It's not a crime to look," he said defensively. "Put your stick away. I'm playing nice."

"It's a wand, Iron-Face. Tell me how your hand is feeling."

Tony wiggled the digits, opening and closing his fist. "Not bad. I should put you on triage assignment next time we hit the field."

"Over my dead body."

"Was that a firm No?"

"Tell me where to get set up," she said, ignoring his smart-ass remarks. "I'll send you a list of shit I need. Don't make me wait and above all, don't make me regret this, Stark. I hate it when egotistical assholes try to manipulate my life. If I didn't like you so much, you'd be fish food. No one would ever find you."

"I believe you. Find Banner. Set up next door to him. I'll put a team on your supplies and staffing needs right away. A corporate credit card will be in your hand by the end of the day."

"Credit limit?" she countered.

"Don't worry about it. You'll never spend enough to hit the limit."

"Is that a dare?"

"Fuck, no. You win, Shorty. And I won't mention the fact that you fried my laptop."

"You just did."

"And this won't count as a favor."

"Tony."

"Yep?"

"Do you need a shovel?"

"No, why?"

"I figured you might need help digging yourself a deeper hole than the one you're already standing in."

"Oh, shit. Operation doghouse. Got it." Tony pretended to zip his lips, lock them and throw away the key.

Hermione blew him an exaggerated kiss, and he held a hand over his heart, staggering.

"You wound me."

"I will. Now leave me alone."

"Yes, Sergeant Shortstop."

As the elevator closed, Hermione cursed as Tony dodged her parting Stinging hex.

"Damn. He's almost as good at dodging hexes as Harry."

She put away her wand and went in search of Banner.

Clint shot Tony a hard, no-nonsense stare when the boss called him up to talk shop.

Catching on, Tony placated him. "I learned my lesson. I'm pretty fond of my family jewels, thanks. Ancient history."

Clint relaxed a fraction, raising his chin in acknowledgment.

"Banner's out sick. Some superbug, or something he was testing. I need your help with the quarantine."

"Wait a minute. Won't that make me part of the mandatory isolation period?"

Shit. Tony had been hoping Clint wouldn't pick up on that little detail until it was too late to protest. Why did his partners and employees have to be so damn observant?

"Well, yeah," he responded lamely.

"Can't you get someone else to do it?"

"Yes, but I don't trust anyone else in the building to handle it, and I can't wait for the clean sweep crew to get their heads out of their collective asses and bother to show up only God-Knows-When."

"I really hate you sometimes."

"Thanks. It's mutual. You gonna do it?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Tony gave him an infamous crocodile grin. "Nope."

Tony watched the monitor in the security room, eating a donut and sipping some whiskey-laced coffee.

"That whole level is on lockdown, right?" he asked Bruce.

"Yeah. But it won't stop Hermione if she figures out what you did. I almost feel sorry for you. I mean, she's a sweet girl. Why did you have to meddle? All it does is piss her off. She's super fast with that wand."

Bruce rubbed his lower back ruefully.

"Shortstop? Sweet? That girl has been nothing but trouble from the first day I met her," Tony replied, his words leaking out from around a mouthful of half-masticated donut.

Bruce purposely dusted the crumbs off his shoulder so Tony would notice, shooting him a disgusted look. "Quit chewing over me. It's gross."

Tony snagged another donut. "Sorry. Not sorry."

Bruce scrounged in the donut box and came up empty. "Augh, come on, man! Couldn't you save me the Bearclaw? Those are the only ones I like!"

"You snooze, you lose."

"I think you're an even bigger dick then before you turned into 'humanitarian Tony.'"

"Probably."

Bruce decided to let it drop. Tony wouldn't apologize and chasing an apology wouldn't conjure another box of donuts.

"You're recording this, right?" Tony asked, leaning over Bruce, one hand supporting his frame leaning on a console.

"Yep. I have to 'cuz you put down on paper it's a level three biohazard lockdown."

"Nice." Tony rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Call me if things start heating up."

"This is wrong. I feel so guilty doing this to Hermione. She's going to hate me when she finds out you locked her and Barton together on purpose." Bruce really did look forlorn and disgusted, and Tony actually felt sorry for forcing him to cooperate with the scheme.

Tony grabbed Bruce by the shoulder and spun him around in his swivel chair. Bruce leaned back, his friend invading his personal space a bit too much.

"Granger won't KNOW about it if you keep your mouth shut, Bruce."

"She's probably the smartest person I've ever met, next to you. Don't you think she's going to figure out your little set-up? The girl's a frickin' bloodhound AND a witch. If you've ever been on the business side of her wand, believe me when I tell you that she won't leave enough of you to fit in a matchbox."

"That's what makes it fun." Tony let him go, turning back to the monitors.

"Is that it, Tony?"

"Is what it? What are you talking about?" Tony rolled his hand in a circle for Bruce to get to the point without actually looking at the other man directly.

"I mean, there's not enough danger and excitement anymore. You gotta go inviting it at the expense of your friends?"

"Those two are perfect for one another. I'm just helping them see it," the sarcastic man justified back to his friend.

"You can't force people together, Tony! It's not right. And I think you're lying. You aren't doing this for them."

"What do you mean? Of course, I am!" Tony bit back, Bruce now having his full attention.

"I call bullshit. I've known you too long. We -all of us- have been through hell and back together. You got addicted to the adrenaline rush, so now you're cooking up these hare-brained schemes to get a taste of it back."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Tony muttered irritably, visibly agitated, by the way he was avoiding Bruce's observation by pretending to ignore the other man's assertion was right.

"Yeah, I do. Don't come crying to me when Hermione and Clint castrate you."

"I'm not worried. Shortstop can't do her hocus pocus without this," and Tony plucked her wand from under his shirt, where he'd had it tucked into the waistband of his underwear. Then he smiled a 'cat that got the cream' smile at Bruce, twirling it in his fingers.

"I -I gotta go," Bruce stuttered, eyes big, glued to the wand.

"Not gonna stick around for the fireworks? This is better than cable. I just told you she can't do her witchy wiles without this sucker."

Bruce backed away towards the door. "I hate to break this to you, but she doesn't need that thing. She just uses it so people don't know she can cast without it. You know, incognito, secret skill-set."

Tony's face turned to ash. "Oh, shit."

"Oh, shit is right. You're a dead man. I ain't getting caught in the crossfire. Bye, old man. It was nice knowing you. Mostly."

Bruce bolted, and Tony ran after him a short way, shouting, "Bruce! Wait up!"

But Banner made Stark eat his dust, in his haste to put distance between himself and the man of iron.

Tony stood in the hallway, hands hanging limp at his sides, wand dangling uselessly from two fingers. "Well. Fuck a duck. If I'm meeting my maker, I might as well enjoy the show." He headed back into the security room and locked himself in.

Clint sighed, exasperated, as the bio-containment security kicked in. It sealed him on Banner's level for God knew how long.

Expecting to see personnel working to contain and seal the lab portion, Clint got a sinking feeling in his gut when the entire area was eerily empty the further in he went.

He knocked on the entrance to Hermione's lab door, which was propped open by a Hulk doorstop, addressing her. "Any reason it appears to be just you and me down here?"

Hermione turned, pleasantly surprised. She hadn't seen Clint since their erotic encounter and parting, but considered him part of her friend circle, given the intimacy of that encounter. "Come in. I'm just finishing up. To answer you, it's usually pretty quiet down here. Bruce and I actually, the only ones down here, most of the time. I only see him at meals on top of that. He keeps busy."

Barton frowned darkly. "Damn you, Stark."

That brought Hermione up short. "I beg your pardon?"

Running a frustrated hand through his short hair, Clint pounded a fist on an empty lab table. "Stark told me I was needed to head up a level three biohazard containment situation and that Banner was sick from an experiment that got out of hand."

"I'm going to KILL him!" Hermione muttered, slamming a few drawers.

"Get in line. The man with nine lives has just run out. We can tag team the murder."

"Sounds good to me, lead the way."

"We're locked in here."

Sunned with disbelief, Hermione leaned heavily against a counter. "You must be mistaken. Tony wouldn't do something that stupid."

"Well, believe it. It's just you and me for a minimum of forty-eight hours, mandatory. I set up and activated the containment myself. This floor is on level three lockdown."

"He's insane. INSANE!" she shouted, outraged. "Tony has taken this too damn far."

"You know why he'd prank us like this? I'm all ears."

Hermione stared at Clint like he'd grown three heads. "Seriously? Are all the men around here dense?"

"I take offense to that," Clint said mildly, clearly not offended.

"Then be offended. It's obvious."

"If you're not going to share the reason, Granger, at least blast us out of here or something."

"I left my wand with Tony. Said he wanted to study it."

"Stark's got your fucking wand? We are fucked now."

"Well, I think that was kind of his point," she hinted, urging him silently to figure it out.

Clint's jaw worked, tightening, then clenched. "That fucker has messed with my personal life for the last time. I warned him to mind his own fuckin' business!"

"The only person Tony listens to is Tony. Even then, it's touch and go. Prank's on you for falling for it."

Clint was silent a moment as she put the last of her stuff away. She shivered at the way Barton was staring at her like he was the wolf and she the prey.

"Is that all that was – us, I mean?" The archer indicated between the two of them. "This was a joke to you? Set up desperate, lonely Barton, and have a good laugh?"

"What? No! Why would you even say shit like that to me?"

"How do I know you're not in on this with that asshole? It's a bit of a coincidence, don't you think? You are working for S.H.I.E.L.D. one day, and suddenly, you're set up here? S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't let their agents go that easily. Transfers typically take weeks, months sometimes."

"Tony manipulated me."

"For what purpose? Why now? Why here?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know!" she cried defensively. "He said I had free reign, as long as he was making money."

"Convenient."

"Look, Barton. Clint." Here she touched his chest with the flat of her palm. "I wouldn't do that to you. I swear to you. Tony's a sick bastard. There must be something more going on than meets the eyes. The Tony I thought I knew wouldn't fuck his friends over like this."

"You can say that again," Clint agreed. "Then we're at an impasse. So now what do we do? Forty-eight hours on this level. Alone."

Hermione's brain went into detective mode. "Yeah. And a fully stocked fridge."

"Fucker thought of everything."

"Apparently."

"Do you think he's watching for our reaction?"

"Wouldn't surprise me."

They both stood there awkwardly, the silent tension ballooning between them. Finally, Hermione spoke. "I might be able to break us out of here without my wand."

"Yeah!" Clint pumped the air with one fist. "Try it!"

Hermione paused, looking at him sideways. "You sure are in a hurry to get away from me."

Barton knew she was teasing, but it rubbed him the wrong way for some odd reason. He jammed his hands into his pockets. "Not really. I just thought you wanted to team up and go gut Tony."

"I do. But there's no rush."

Barton's head shot up. "You serious?"

"Completely."

That caught him off guard. "What about the cameras?"

Hermione closed her eyes and concentrated, then placed her hands along a section of the wall. A crackling noise sounded, and she opened her eyes and grinned at him. "No peep show for Tony."

Clint grinned back at her. "I wish I could see the look on his smug face right about now."

"Priceless," Hermione agreed.

That awkward tension reappeared. Clint laughed into the silence. "This is stupid. Here we are, two adults that shared a hot night together. Acting like teenagers."

Hermione stepped closer to him. "Would you like an encore?"

His eyes widened, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. "If you're serious, fuck, yes. You're the best lay of my life, Granger."

"Good. I didn't want to have to take no for an answer. I've been sexually frustrated for months, and the only time I felt better was the day after we screwed each other's brains out."

"I don't have any…"

"Witch, remember?"

"Oh yeah, right."

Clint shuffled his feet. "So how did you want to do this?" he asked.

Hermione boldly grabbed the front of his shirt. "Clint?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't make this complicated. Just do what you did last time and you're golden."

"No problem."

Their coming together was no less frenzied than before. Each had secretly longed for more, and the chemistry between them flared to life brightly.

"I'm so attracted to you. Talk to me, I love hearing you speak, your accent," Clint requested, breathing hard already.

"What do you want me to say?" she teased as he grabbed her ass and lifted her onto a counter.

"Shit, doll, anything."

"How about, 'Oh, God,' 'Yes, more,' and 'fuck me harder,' and your name as a finale when I come so hard on your cock your head explodes?"

"That's a start," he growled back at her, moving in to kiss her as if his life depended on it.

"Granger. I don't know what it is about you. But you make me want to blow a load in my pants -again."

"Can't waste that, now, can we?" She pulled from his grasp and spun her ass around on the counter, then scooted forward, laying on her back with her head hanging off the edge. "Give it to me, love."

"I love how you think." Clint wasted no time pulling his rock hard prick out from its confines and sliding it into her mouth. His head tipped back as she sucked him in.

"Going to fuck your face, " he warned her gruffly, and she hummed her consent.

Placing his hands on either side of her head, mindful of not wrenching her neck, Barton moved over her hot mouth, cursing and spitting random epithets as he went.

Granger was stellar. "Where have you been all my life?" he asked her rhetorically.

Speeding up, he felt the telltale signs of impending orgasm already rising to the fore. "The quick nut's coming, doll. Suck it, oh fuck, yes yes, ahhhhhh!" he cried, aware enough not to slam down her throat. But it did take a fair amount of discipline to hold back, her superb suction pulling the come into her mouth as he finished.

Pulling out, he panted from exertion, groaning when she righted herself and swallowed all of his release.

"Take your pants off. I'm going to eat your sweet pussy," he commanded her, no longer shy.

Moments later, Barton's head was moving between her legs, the girl scrabbling for purchase with her fingers where there was none. "So good, Clint. Don't stop."

He didn't.

Barton licked, sucked, flicked, teased, pinched, tickled and lightly bit her until after fifteen minutes she called out, wailing, "Barton! Eat it! Shitttt Ummmmnnhh!"

In heaven, Clint kept working his mouth over her, turned on by her breathy cries, dirty talk, and his name on her lips. "Beautiful," he said into her pussy, consuming the last of her cream, then pulling her to sit, wildly sharing her tastes, both in a hurry to get naked but not wanting to pull apart from ravenous kisses.

They eventually had to stop briefly, shucking clothing at record speed, and coming together, hands and mouths everywhere at once.

There weren't very many places to sit, and none to comfortably lay down. The couple ravished one another while upright, Hermione working Clint's dick with one hand until he was hard again.

"Wrap your legs around me," he requested, then lifted and carried her to a wall as if she weighed next to nothing.

She did as bade, Clint apologizing. "I'm gonna bang the shit out of you, doll. Sorry in advance for the bruises. If it's too much, tell me to stop and I will. No questions asked. I respect a woman's no as no the first time."

This touched Hermione on a very personal level, and she felt a chip of her hardened heart fall away to let a little bit of Clint Barton slip in. Clint was so sweet and sincere, no guile or second agenda with him. What you saw was what you got.

Yum.

And what she saw, felt, smelled, touched and all the rest excited her as no man ever had.

The sincere emotion was so naked and raw in his eyes her shield cracked a little more.

Barton adjusted her and slipped inside, maintaining eye contact. It was almost too intense. HE was intense.

Like he'd read her mind, Clint spoke to her, lazily taking her up against the wall.

"This is going to sound dumb. But I think I'm falling in love with you."

Hermione closed her eyes, the hurt was so sweet. This man was a fucking treasure. Holding on more tightly, she told him, "Damn you, Clint. Fucking hell. I don't know how this happened, but I think I'm falling in love with you too."

Clint sped up, his thrusting short and hard, stretching her beautifully. "Be my girl," he blurted out impulsively. "Please say yes. I won't be able to think of anything else but you. I want you, more than I've ever wanted any other person."

"Shit!" she cried, his declaration traveling straight to her cunt.

"Say yes, Granger. Hermione," he drawled out, and she tightened around him, a wall of sound issuing from her throat, soaking his pelvis.

"Say yes," he demanded, more gruffly. "I want you. I'll treat you well. C'mon, Granger. So sexy. Be my girl. C'mon."

Clint was pounding her hard now, sweat pouring between them, slippery breasts pressed tightly to his lightly muscled chest.

"Say it. Say it," he chanted, starting to come undone.

His soaked, pounding cock made obscene, wet noises, filling the room with the potent musk of heavy sex. "I'm coming," he bit out, and gloried in her cry of, "Yes, Clint! I'm yours, your girl, oh, shit – coming!"

His semen filled her, hips wildly pumping, then slamming and holding tight, flesh locked in ecstasy.

Barton grunted roughly through each pulse, his cock being milked by her pulsing cunt, the girl giving herself to him.

And she had said yes.

FUCK. YES.

Granger was his girl, and Tony could fuck off. Permanently.

It was tricky, but Hermione and Hawkeye managed to clean up sufficiently until they could get a proper shower.

Just as Clint pulled on his jeans, the quarantine system chirped. "Level three quarantine has been canceled. Have a nice day."

This was followed by Tony bursting through the lab door and running over to them. He skidded to a stop at the death glares he received, and the state of dishevelment they were in.

Tony smiled broadly. "Cool. It worked."

"You've got a pretty big set of balls pulling a stunt like that, Stark," Clint bit out, emphasizing BALLS by very obviously pulling up his zipper.

Hermione stalked over and held out her hand. "Give it to me. Now."

Wand procured, she said in a low, calm, deadly voice, "The only reason you're still standing here is that I've just had the shag of a lifetime."

"Yeah. Thanks, Tony. Doll here is my new girl. Fuck with her anymore, and there won't be a warning before I hit you."

"Wow. You two? An item? Hot damn! Granger, do I still owe you for the deal we made?"

"Clint? Break this fucker's nose again."

"With pleasure."

CRUNCH!

"Shit, Barton! I just got that fixed! Ow!"

Clint turned to Hermione, trying to sound neutral as he asked, "What deal?"

"Tony owes me big for convincing me to have sex with you that first time."

"Classy, Stark. Really classy."

"What does he owe you, doll?"

Hermione smiled evilly at a bleeding and hunched-over Tony. "A lot. After today? Whatever I want."

Tony nodded in agreement.

"Let's get a shower, doll. I think I can go again. Later, Stark."

Tony moaned and clutched his broken nose but smiled through the blood as they left, nodding once more.

"I got two of my best friends hooked up. It was worth it."


	2. Chapter 2

"Damn, damn, damn, Doll, oh so good, yes, ah." Clint finished inside of his girlfriend, the last vestiges of her orgasm milking the final strains of release from his tired cock. He rolled from her, bringing her to him again.

"I'm never going to get tired of this," he said to her, tangling his fingers in her hair. "You are so sexy, do you know that?"

"No. I honestly have no clue," Hermione teased, and he pinched her lightly. "Hey! Don't get me started or I'll wear you out again."

"Oh, hell no. Not tonight. Three seems to be my limit, and that was my limit like twenty years ago. So at some point, I'm going to go all 'old man' on you, and you'll have to be satisfied with two."

"Hm. I can think of other ways we can play."

Clint perked up, propping himself up on one elbow and head on his hand. "Tell me. Because I don't know what's better than this. The real thing or nothing."

Hermione frowned. "You really think that? You've never experimented with toys, or lotions or anything?"

"Nah. Who needs it?"

"I do," she answered quietly. "Adding 'extras' can be a whole lot of fun."

"You replacing me already?" he joked, but with a serious note to his tone.

"Hardly. It's not a threat to your manhood or anything. In fact, if it makes our sex life richer, don't you want to give it at least a try?"

Clint thought about it. Just because he was what some of the guys called 'Vanilla,' didn't mean he wasn't open to trying new things. His ex-wife hadn't ever suggested it, so he never brought it up. Clint wasn't happy when he'd found a vibrator twice his size in her underwear drawer but figured it was better she stuck that inside herself than some other guy's prick. That was one thing he'd always been thankful for; they had both been very faithful spouses.

"I – uh – well. I don't know much about that stuff. You got anything you want to try now?" her lover asked apprehensively, and she laughed.

"Oh, not at the moment. But I can come up with some stuff. And if you prefer natural, I can do themes."

"Nothing wild or really kinky like ropes and shit, Doll. I – I'm not sure I can get into that."

"You like to hold me down, don't you?"

Clint got a sexy gleam in his eyes and leaned over to kiss her, their tongues entwining until he was kissing her breasts, pulling, pinching, then lowering himself to pleasure her again with his mouth, holding her thighs down and licking and sucking her clit, finger fucking her with three fingers, curling them upwards until she cried out and rode his face, utilizing his nose, mouth, and chin to stimulate her as much as possible.

Moving up when he was done, he wiped himself off using the sheet and tossed it off the bed. "Does that answer your question?" he said to her, his tone low and sexy, still idly playing with her breasts.

"Affirmative Sergeant Legolas."

"Aw, Doll, PLEASE don't bring Stark into the bed with us. He was such a prick, the way he set us up."

"But aren't you glad he did?"

"Sure, just, don't mention him, okay? Talk about limp dick syndrome."

Hermione snorted, then laughed, grabbing her middle. "Oh, fucking hell Clint, that's funny! 'Tony Stark, Proprietor of Limp Dick Syndrome.' I think I'm going to pee. Shit, I gotta go, hang on." And she streaked into the bathroom, still laughing.

Clint smiled and laid back against the pillows. Wow. Life was pretty good right now. It sure was wonderful to get away with his new Doll for a while, hole up and pretend the rest of the world didn't exist. The nagging tension headaches and irritable mood swings had vanished, replaced by the replete satiation of a well-fucked man. Oh yes. Life was good. And what was even better? He didn't even have to use condoms with her. Just to prove to him she was clean, Doll had gotten a clean bill of health, so he'd done the same. It loosened a knot of worry in his stomach he hadn't realized was there until they decided to just get it over with. Who knew he'd be dating an actual witch, and she didn't even have any warts?  
He snorted at his own joke and closed his eyes. The bathroom door opened and closed, but he was just starting to fall into a light doze. Hermione slid in behind him, pressing her warm breasts against his back, and he held his arm up for her to place one of hers around his middle, then covered it with his own and fell asleep.

Mornings always sucked. It didn't matter where you were. They just generally sucked. Clint got up first, never able to sleep much past dawn whether he could see the sun or not. His body clock had always been that way, so even if he stayed up late, he got up at the ass crack of dawn, but damn, was he good at the power snooze. Good thing or he really would have been bitchy.

Hermione slid into the shower behind him, and they helped one another cleanup. As much as his morning wood begged for relief, he was still getting used to keeping up with a woman ten years his junior, and the old jolly roger needed to toughen up yet. He'd fucked her three times a day for three days straight, and eaten her out a good deal more and she still wanted more. Maybe toys would save him some skin down the line. If he didn't rest, there wouldn't be any left by the end of the four day weekend.

Hermione pushed herself back against the tile, looking up at him, sexily from under her wet lashes. Her hand snaked out and grabbed his tender cock, and he winced and danced away. "Sorry, Doll. No can do. He's all tired out."

"Oh, really? He looks pretty ready to me," and she licked her lips in the direction of his straining prick.

"Doll, I would love to fuck your pretty pussy again. But it's not happening."

Hermione pouted a little, and he shut his eyes. "I'm not as young as I used to be. And my body's been through a lot of hard shit. You gotta give me a break, I'm sorry."

Hermione got a wicked idea and said, "I'll be right back, don't go anywhere."

He shrugged, hoping she wasn't going to try and beg him using a different technique. When your dick was done, it was done. Or so he thought.

The shower door pushed open once more, and he stood there, soaking up the spray, eyeballing the two vials she had in hand. He'd made no bones about it that he was a little wary of some of the 'wizarding' stuff she talked about, and wasn't sure he was ready to experiment with potions or the like, even though she'd patiently explained, in-depth, how they were made and what they did. So seeing those little vials sent a shiver through his belly.

"Drink these for me. I know they make you nervous, but they'll help with the soreness, ache and all of that."

"I thought we discussed this –"

"No, I tried to discuss it with you, but your mind was made up long before I finished talking. I can tell. Your eyes glaze over and wander everywhere but at me."

"You're serious? I – I'm still a little nervous about this magic stuff, I mean, I know Loki and a couple others like Strange can do it, but I like keeping my feet on the ground, thanks."

"This isn't magic, Clint, not really. It's like the pills you take for a headache, without the nasty side effects on your stomach and liver. And it has therapeutic properties."

"You really wanna get laid again, don't you?"

"What can I say? You turn me on, and I'm making up for the dry spell."

"I'll say. I went through a pretty long dry spell myself, but I feel like I'm caught up for a bit."

"It's either these or the toys. There is a great shop down the road that sells magical toys. I've got enough wizarding money with me to get a really nice vibrator."

"You drive a hard bargain. I'm going to remember this. Blackmail."

She smirked at him sexily. "Bottoms up."

Clint took one in each hand and eyeballed them again, sighed, and chucked them back at the same time. Oddly, they weren't too bad. A bit minty, a smooth sensation in the back of his throat, and no aftertaste. He startled a bit when the ache in his knees was suddenly gone, and he felt – stable – solid – like he had when he'd worked out to keep in top physical condition before significant assignments. Oh – that was nice – his libido had kicked in again. Shit! He felt like a new man! His erection felt like steel, balls heavy, an intense lust settling over his brain.

"Doll. I don't know what was in those things. But if they make me feel like this every time I think I'm done, I'm going to wear you the fuck out."

"You're not supposed to take them all the time, but a couple of times a week doesn't hurt if we end up wanting that much sex."

"I'm never going to be able to get enough sex with you. I wish I could keep my dick in you twenty-four hours a day."

"Wow, thank you, I feel the same way. Not the dick in you part, but you know, your dick in me part. Never mind."

Clint just grinned at her. "I know what'cha meant. Did you take a couple of those medicine potion things too?"

"I might have."

"Come here. We haven't christened this shower yet."

But he moved into her space, lifting her quickly, no preliminaries as she rubbed her pussy along his hardened shaft. "Shit, Doll. That's so hot, going to fuck you until you can't walk."

"Make my day, Archer," she teased and yelped when he slapped her ass.

"You want me to take a little control? You got it. Gonna fuck you so hard I'll bust a new hole through your back."

And he sucked in a deep breath, lining up with her cunt. But he didn't slam in. That wasn't his style – usually. He eased her onto him, inch by inch, teasing her, holding her slippery body tightly, so he owned all of the control of movement.

"Clint! Shit! Faster!"

"Mm, in a little bit. I'm enjoying the feel of your sexy body riding the hell out of dick. I honestly never knew what a hot screw felt like before I met you. I'm not going to dig into my past, things were – okay – in that department. No complaints. But sex with you – blows everything out of the water I'd ever experienced before. And I feel like we've barely scratched the surface."

"If you don't start fucking me harder I'm going to blow something."

"Don't tempt me Doll. At the rate I'm feeling, I don't know if I'd be able to keep from choking you with it."

Hermione tightened on him at those words, and he was astounded when her vaginal muscles clamped down, a slow, rolling orgasm shaking her in intense waves. Clint cried out and pistoned into her, amazed at the things that turned her on. And she was right, what turned her on, turned him on, because of her pleasure. He'd do anything for her – almost anything – sexually – if she just let him work up to it a bit at a time.

She came down and clung to him, allowing him to slam into her over and over, the hot water starting to go cold, but neither noticed as it was really only hitting their feet and Clint's lower legs at this end of the bath.

They didn't need words as he grunted, lifting and lowering her, then holding her in one place, working his hips as fast as he could in that position, balls slapping beautifully with each thrust, and she felt him start to come undone, the hitching of his breath, tightening of his arms and fingers, biting down gently on her collar bone.

"Doll. Doll. Gonna blow soon. If you're gonna come, do it quickly."

"Fuck me as hard as you can. I think I can go over with you."

"Shit! Hold on!" And like a marathon runner, he went into overdrive, hunching up into her, legs bent, fucking her for all he was worth, cock reaching deep inside of her, hitting her G-spot perfectly, and just as the girl screamed he blew his load inside, slamming tight against her, shouting how perfect she was as her high pitch said his name over and over. And when the rush ended, he literally dropped to the tile, catching her in his lap, ravaging her mouth and laughing when the water was suddenly ice cold, and they needed to get out.

"Damn, damn, that was so hot. We gotta do that again."

"I agree. But next time, let me charm the water heater, so it doesn't run out."

"That's a massive waste of water."

"Are you complaining?"

"Fuck. To the NO. I'll let Niagara Falls go down the drain if I get to bone you like that again."

"Bone me?" Hermione burst out laughing but saw he was serious.

"Yeah. I feel like a sick old fucker talking to you like this, but you've corrupted me. Brought out a nasty side I didn't even know existed. And now that it's here, I can't get enough. I feel addicted to you, and it scares me a little."

Hermione's eyes softened, and after they were dry, sat down on the edge of the bed and just held him. "You know I won't smother you if you need space, right?"

Clint nodded but felt a few tears forming in his eyes. What the fuck was wrong with him? He had a hot naked chick in bed, and he was fucking crying. He tried dashing them away, getting angry at himself, but she stopped his hand.

"Don't. Everyone cries. It doesn't make you less of a man because you have emotions. We just shared a really intense experience, and sometimes this happens."

"Not to guys like me."

"Well, guess what Barton? It just happened to you. Did you feel like something busted loose, and it's floating around and feels bloody great but scary too like a ride when you were a kid?"

"Yeah, yeah. Almost exactly like that. Like, like, I know I'm never gonna be able to control it, and I'm terrified I'm out of control, but it feels so fuckin' great. But I don't deserve to feel that good, you know?"

She tilted his head towards her. "But you do. You do deserve it, and it'll take time, but I'm going to convince you that you're worth it. Because you're mine, and I love you, and I'll spend as much time as you need giving you space, wiping away your tears, fucking your cock, or bringing you soup if you're sick. You. Are. Worth. It."

Clint thought he was going to start crying again, he was so lucky to find this woman, so instead, he took advantage of his dick's happiness and took her to bed again. And after that, they slept like the dead, because even potions can only carry you so far before you turn into a zombie.


	3. Chapter 3

Hotel Interlude

The next morning they were interrupted mid-coitus with a call from Clint's cell buzzing. He reached over and checked. "It's Laura, I have to take this."

"No problem," Hermione smiled. "Family first."

"Thanks, Doll. You're the best," he smiled, gave her a quick peck, and rolled off of her to take the call. Naked, he strode to the opposite side of the suite.

(Clint on the phone with his ex-wife, The end of each sentence designates her speaking on the other line, then him the next sentence, but you will only see his side of the convo.)

"Laura, hi. Yeah. I'm downtown. On business. No, I'm not really busy, was going to tie up a few loose ends today. Did you need something? Today? Sure. Let me make a couple of  
calls. I can have someone else deal with the details and uh, I'll be out there this afternoon. Well, I have to take a flight. Standby I can probably get there in a few hours. I need some time to pack up, shower and make calls, I'm near the airport. Okay. See you. Bye."

Hermione had already got up and pulled on her robe, pulling together their stuff for the shower.

"Doll, hey, where are you going? We weren't finished!"

"It sounds like your family needs you. I'm going to shower and make myself scarce." She started for the shower, but Clint grabbed her around the middle.

"It's nothing that can't wait. Kid stuff. Stay. I've got a couple of hours, I don't really have any loose ends to tie up, other than taking care of you."

She looked over her shoulder and gave him a kiss. "You sure?"

"Yeah. Now, where were we?"

"Right about….." She shucked her robe and bathing supplies and reached for his cock. "Here."

"That feels about right. Oh, Doll, give it to me, this has gotta last the rest of the week. After I fly out, I'm on assignment for a couple of days."

"Me too. I've got experiments running that Banner's been keeping an eye on, but they're reaching critical status, and he doesn't know the next steps. You know, magic and all that."

"I'll just make some magic with you while the world waits," he said softly, backing her towards the bed again.

She giggled when he fell on top of her, dragged her bottom to the edge of the bed and stood in-between her legs, hooking them up over his shoulders, him grasping her hips and sliding in.

"Oh, yeah. That's the ticket."

His phone buzzed again, and he swore. "Dammit!"

"It's fine, check it."

"No, I'm busy. Whoever it is can wait."

"Clint, what if it's important? You only have your phone set to notify you if certain people call you."

"You're right. HOLD TIGHT. Don't go anywhere, I'm not finished with you."

"Okay."

Clint spent another ten minutes on the phone with Laura, this time arguing in a low voice, so she was unable to hear. The mood had evaporated for the second time, and she really wasn't up to being interrupted a third time, so darted into the shower, well into her bathing routine by the time he slipped in behind her.

"You don't have to run every time the ex calls."

"I'm not running. It just spoiled the mood a bit. No big deal."

"It IS a big deal. When I'm with you, our time is special, Doll." Clint wrapped his arms around her soapy middle, bent at the knees and pushed her forward, so she had to brace herself against the shower wall, then entered her with another long sigh.

"I feel bad hogging you when it's important."

"It wasn't important. She just wanted to nag me."

"About what?"

"Money. I thought we agreed not to talk about this stuff when we're together?"

Hermione wondered when would be a good time, as he was spending a lot of time arguing on the phone with Laura, and she felt he needed to just fly home and deal with some of it, but wasn't going to push him, so she let it go.

"Yeah, we did. No interruptions then?"

"I turned off the phone, so we can have ten minutes of peace. Then I'll let you get all squeaky clean and go face the real world. Gonna miss having real breakfast with you. All I've had was a stale roll and coffee."

"Mmh, this is all the breakfast I need, if you fill me up."

"Shit. I'm going to fill you up real good."

He played with her tits from behind, and Hermione reached down between her legs to stroke herself, loving the full stretch of herself around his sizable dick.

"You feel so good, Clint. I feel like a junkie."

"I'll never get enough of you," he panted, closing his eyes and speeding up, this position providing exquisite stimulation to push them both over sooner rather than later.

"Clint! Oh, shit!" she cried out, contracting around him and he muttered something, working her through it.

She came down and moaned as he worked towards his release, seeming to be unable to get there. After about fifteen minutes, he huffed and pulled out. "Dammit. I don't know  
what's wrong with me."

"I do. Your 'juju,' as Tony likes to call it,' was interrupted. You need a little TLC."

"What did you have in mind?"

"This."

Sliding to her knees, Clint tried to stop her and get her to stand up, but the stubborn witch smiled and pushed his hands away. "Let me. You've hardly let me do this since the first time we met."

"It's – degrading, Doll. A girl shouldn't have to get on her knees like that."

"You have some really – different – ideas about sex, I'll give you that. How about this. I love sucking you off. It turns me on. Please let me suck your dick?" She batted her eyelashes up at him, and he groaned, throwing his head back.

"I cannot say no to you. If it turns you on, then go for it. But I ain't gonna ask you to do it unless you want to."

"Deal. Do you like it?"

"Fuck, yes."

"There, that was easy. Now give me some sugar, sugar."

And she took him to heaven and back with her mouth, finally able to get over the peak when she forced herself further on him and gagged, that little extra bit of stimulation blowing his mind and his load. Clint was amazed she took all of it, showed it to him, and swallowed it down.

"Shit, you're a nasty girl. I love it. I'm so lucky."

"And I'm lucky. Now, let's finish washing and get out of here. The sooner you get your work done, the sooner I can do that again."

"Well, if that isn't an incentive, I don't know what is."

Hermione was surprised he seemed to have no problem French kissing her immediately after he'd unloaded in her mouth, then thought back to when he'd eaten her with their combined fluids and figured it was kind of the same thing.

"I love you, Clint Barton."

"I love you, Doll."

They mostly dressed and got ready to depart in silence. It was so difficult to separate, but she knew she needed to let him go. The longer he kissed her, the more neither of them wanted to leave.

"We have to go," she told him between kisses and nips.

"I know, just a few more minutes," he argued softly, running his tongue down to the vee of her blouse.

"You said that five times ago."

"I'm so hard again for you, Doll."

"Clint! We've already showered!"

"Do your hocus pocus. I don't care. I need to leave you with one last load, for the road."

Hermione giggled, Clint really came up with the silliest sayings sometimes.

"Can you make it quick? You'll barely make it to the airport for your standby."

"Hocus pocus me there."

"Okay, first you want nothing to do with wizarding stuff, now you're using it as an excuse to fuck me."

"Are you telling me you don't want my hard dick inside of you?"

He pulled away and lifted his brows, and she rolled her eyes.

"Fine! A quickie!"

"Yes!" Barton spun her around and hiked up her skirt, fumbled with his pants, slid aside her panties and went to town, pumping hard and fast, clutching her ass cheeks from behind.

They were so heated already from a full half-hour of petting he was able to zone in only on her, imagining some sordid, twisted things he wanted to try on her but hadn't had that courage to voice just yet. She didn't come, but within a few minutes, he was biting down on her blouse, muffling his shout in her shoulder as he shot another orgasm into her hot cunt.

When they finished, she cleaned them with her wand, passionately kissed him for a while longer before pulling away and playfully threatening to stun him, then grabbed their bags and pulled him into Side-Along with her.

That was probably the last time he allowed her to do that for a long time. As soon as they landed, he puked up any remaining roll and coffee in his stomach, and dry heaved for several minutes, finally catching his quivering stomach and holding back any further gagging.

"Dammit. I wish you would've warned me."

"I did warn you. You didn't listen."

"Okay, okay, um no more of that shit."

"You're the one who wanted to –"

"-and it was worth it, but hot damn, I am NOT doing that again unless absolutely necessary."

"You get used to it."

"Nuh-uh. Fuck that."

They hugged for another few minutes, stole some closed-mouth kisses and sadly waved goodbye, Clint turning to wave at her until he was entirely out of sight.

Hermione slumped against a terminal wall. "Oh, fucking hell, I've got it bad."


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione groaned, wanting nothing more than to sink into an honest-to-God hot bath, some wine, and a good book. She'd scourgified herself so many times her skin felt like sandpaper. And every muscle in her body ACHED. And she missed Clint like a motherfucker.

"Granger! I've got another assignment for you!"

She grit her teeth and started walking faster, knowing she could just Apparate away, but not wanting to aggravate Tony more than she already had with her disappearing 'hocus pocus,' as he coined the term.

Tony panted, running after her with a stack of papers. "Dammit, Granger, would you slow down?"

Hermione sighed and stopped, slumping. "I just finished with the last one, can I catch a break? I wanted to meet up with Clint."

Tony caught up with her and looked apologetic. "Sorry. It's from the top, and it can't wait. I really am. Please don't kill the messenger."

She sighed. "Okay. Give it here."

Flipping through it, she studied it intensely. "This could take weeks."

"I really am sorry."

"Just – don't worry about it. I knew this job would take me away from everyone for days to months to years at a time. No time to start crying about it now."

"I knew I could count on you."

"Thanks, Tony."

She wandered away, lip-reading silently. Tony knew the feeling. When you got an assignment, it tended to consume you.

Hermione's cell rang a short time later as she was packing her duffel. A quick shower and strong black coffee were all she had been allowed in order to meet her ride on time.

"Hey, Clint!"

(On the other line)

"Hey, doll, I'll pick you up at about eight, is that okay?"

"Actually, I can't. Tony just handed me another assignment."

"What? Is he trying to fuck us up now that we're together?"

"It's from the top. He told me not to kill the messenger."

"Well, alright, then. I don't like it, but it's not like we have a choice. Call me when you get back."

"I will, and Clint?"

"Yeah, Doll?"

"I love you."

"Love you too. Later."

She hung up and sighed again. God, she wished she could make love to him just once before she had to leave, but as always, it was top secret, so she apparated to the roof and took off in the Quinjet with Nat.

They sat in silence while Nat piloted, looking her over a few times. They'd gotten a bit closer, but she could tell Clint's traditional partner wasn't sure about her.

"I don't have a lot of background on you. Your magical community likes to keep things locked up tight."

"Fury has access to it. It's in the contract between the MLE and SHIELD."

"MLE?"

"Magical Law Enforcement. It's where I got my start, that and fighting in the war."

"You fought in a war?"

"I guess there is a bit more than the official file."

"I'll say. Does Clint know all this stuff?"

Hermione gave her a side-eye, wondering where she was coming from. "Some of it. We haven't had a lot of time to spend together after he went to see Laura and the kids. It's either been this assignment or that, obligations. I know he's got family. I'm cool with it."

"Do you?"

"Do I what, Nat?"

"Have family?"

"Look, I'm not sure what your angle is, but I'm not divorced – never been married. No wizard pining back home. Well, an ex that might be pining, but that's his problem, not mine. No kids. No affairs. I'm pretty clean in the relationship department."

"Good to know. Clint's got a lot of baggage for a girl your age. You sure you're up to it?"

"Are you questioning my commitment to Clint?"

Nat put the controls on autopilot for a bit and turned to her. "I might be. He's been my partner for a long time. The only person who gave me a second chance when he was sent to kill me. I don't want to see him used and get hurt. So, if you're just out for kicks, I suggest you move on."

"Tell me how you really feel," Hermione deadpanned, but Nat just gave the other woman her best death glare, so the girl huffed. "Fine. I'm serious. I don't just fall into something and not follow through. If anything were to happen, it wouldn't be me reneging on the deal."

"Clint wouldn't do it either without good reason."

"I'll be sure not to give him one."

"Good. That's all I wanted to know."

Nat went back to piloting. The air was pretty thick with tension, so the spy attempted some light conversation, but it flopped. The rest of the ride sucked, but there was nothing for it. Now Hermione knew that Nat had an angle on her, not wholly trusting Hermione, and it was NOT wise to go into a mission with that onus hanging over your head. Shit. Nat wished she would have held questioning until after. Old habits died hard. In this business, when you got close to someone, you tended let out the claws when the slightest perceived threat popped into view.

They landed, cloaked, deep in a forest, and Nat and Hermione caught a few hours of sleep, waiting for nightfall.

They woke at almost the same time, a tapping coming from the underside of the plane, which should NOT be happening since no one was supposed to know where they were except for those that had assigned the mission.

Raising and lowering her hand, Nat went into stealth mode, clipping on her gear in record time, slipping out of the sleeping quarters and down the hatch. Hermione slipped into her gear and up to the top, pressing a few buttons to angle the discreet cameras at the source. Nat had a watch tuned into them, and she kept a close eye on her wrist while Hermione zoned in on the sound.

They both let out a groan when a tree branch scraped the bottom of the craft.

"Fuck's sake," Hermione muttered, leaning back.

"Let's eat," Nat encouraged her. "Be glad it wasn't something else. I'd have killed just to be interrupted before dinner. And I have to pee."

Hermione tried and failed not to snicker at the Black Widow, saying something as mundane as "pee."

"What. Brits, don't pee?"

"Um, we do. I'm still getting used to superheroes being normal people."

"If you think I'm normal, girlfriend, you've got a weird sense of normal."

"You know what I mean."

"Actually, I don't, but I'll take a pass."

Hermione was starting to get the vibe Nat didn't want to be on this mission with her because her answers sounded flippant and annoyed. But she let it pass, needing to focus. It seemed like a simple job, but it was tricky. A lot of surveillance, and if certain people showed up, the pair were to take them into custody for questioning. If other events took place, they were to follow, record, do reconnaissance, whatever was necessary and hoof the intel back to HQ.

Her magical senses were tingling, and Hermione supposed it was what Spiderman felt like sometimes when he just seemed to know what was going to happen before it happened. Nat had an uncanny ability to do the same but fell slightly short in that category compared to Hermione. Who knows, it may have irked the Widow a bit. She was highly competitive.

They sat for hours, entirely still. A crick developed in Hermione's neck, but she ignored it. The cold seeped into her bones from where they were sitting about twenty feet from the cloaked Quinjet. Whatever had activated her magical sense had long since waned by that point. From experience, she knew it could have been something as simple as an approaching storm, a predator, or as significant as a big scary bad guy.

It was becoming clear there was no point in this mission, whatsoever. Even she could tell this place had been long deserted and refrained from rolling her eyes and huffing. Nat was like a statue, black against black, a tree branch, or boulder in the night. Impressive.

Hermione gripped her wand and carried on. Finally, she stepped out of position, irritated when Nat gripped her wrist tightly, training her wand on the woman and retracting it as Nat reached out to take it.

"Don't you EVER point that damn thing at me," Nat hissed, making a face.

"Then let go of me. There's nothing here. Training dictates we report back. We're wasting time."

"Sometimes, you have to reach beyond your training, Granger. I get the feeling something is going to happen."

"Yeah. The deer over there are going to start making babies after they fight over that doe. Come on."

"You will stay here, Granger. I'm the senior OP."

"Nat. What's your problem? I trust my instincts, too, and they're telling me to ditch this place. The only thing that's going to happen is you sniping at me for not being subservient enough to you, or good enough for Clint. I understand you're the senior OP here. But I'm the expert on this assignment so that technically places me in that spot. And expertise tells me this is a waste of time. I'm leaving."

"You're not taking the Quinjet without me."

Hermione shrugged. Her orders had specified to follow up on any threats, and there were none. In her mind she was astoundingly grateful, now maybe she'd have time to catch up with Clint! But she addressed Widow first, the irritation in her voice breaking through. "Fine, Nat. I don't know what your issue is, but this wasn't part of the assignment."

Then she did something Nat wasn't expecting, she Apparated just as Nat opened her mouth to bitch her out, then allowed it to snap shut, exclaiming, "Well, fuck. That's not what I was expecting."

Listening, she took off at a trot in the direction of the old building, keeping low to the ground, slipped inside, and disappeared.

The Avengers, as a whole, was not immune to the ills of salacious workplace gossip, as pristine as the press made them out to be at times.

Hermione was unsurprised at the whispers and stares she received upon entering the team's main break area after she returned from her mission with Nat, although the assassin still hadn't returned. Grabbing a donut and a coffee, she ignored the few at the table and walked back out. It had gone dead silent when she went in, and whispers were resuming when she walked out. Rolling her eyes and sighing, she backed up, and of course, the noise stopped again.

"Does anyone have anything they want to say to me or ask me? Because I'm only going to go over this once. And once you've heard it, I'm not repeating myself."

Thor, immune to the social constructs of polite society on earth, to a degree, toasted her with a paper cup that looked like a doll's thimble in comparison to the hand he held it in. "My Lady, you and the valiant Hawkeye have become a couple, yes?"

She nodded once. "Yes."

He smiled brightly at her and nodded back. "Best of wishes to you both. May the Norns bless your relationship and journey together."

Thor was so sweet. "Thank you. You are very kind. Anyone else?"

Tony was keeping his head down. Either that or he was sleeping behind his sunglasses. It was a Monday, after all.

Steve Rogers stood up, out of costume, and walked over to her, looking her up and down. She didn't know Steve really well, but certainly respected his bio and the work he'd done for others. He seemed like the right sort that didn't judge too quickly.

"Granger."

"Rogers."

He lifted his chin and cleared his throat. "You, uh, you doing okay?"

Hermione smiled sweetly and narrowed her eyes. "In what way?"

"Um, are you settling in here alright? Got everything you need?"

"Yes. Anything else?"

Steve swallowed and reached around to scratch behind his head. "Just, uh, I don't know you well, but you seem like a sweet kid. And Barton – well, he's been through a hell of a lot – not that you haven't! – It's just, I'd hate to see him get hurt, you know? I'm not sure he was ready for a new relationship. He's not completely over Laura."

Hermione nodded slowly, keeping eye contact with him. "Anything else?"

"No. Uh, that was it."

"Have a nice day, boys," she threw out, gave a little wave to Thor, who waved back while his brother rolled his eyes and let the rest of the team's non-reaction slide off her like water off a duck's back. It was up to Clint to share with her what he chose to. At the moment, it was hot sex and more hot sex in between duty and a little bit of heavy stuff on the side when he needed to deal with family. She knew they had a very long way to go, and wasn't putting all of her chips in one basket, but wasn't going to dump the guy because he might still love his ex-wife. In fact, she HOPED he still loved her on some level. It would be kind of creepy if he hated Laura's guts, and wanted nothing to do with her, or if he treated her like complete shit or talked trash about her. And he didn't.

Clint seemed to be one of those rare guys that had genuinely liked his ex and was doing his best to get along with her. There was undoubtedly a money issue going on; she wasn't entirely privy to, and that was fine. Hermione wasn't after Clint for his fame or money – she had plenty of her own. But she did care about him, and knew better than anyone, that how someone treats their ex might be how they treat you down the line.

The tell-tale rumble of the Quin-jet touching down sounded throughout the building as Nat disembarked, pissed off.

"Tony!"

"Hey, Nat! I was wondering when you would get back."

"Yeah? Well, Granger just fucking left me in the field."

Tony just stared at her. "So?"

Nat crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Tony. "That's against regs. Everyone knows that."

"She made a judgment call and left. The file put her on the mission as the expertise. Did you have a different conclusion than the one she came up with?"

"Well, no."

Natalie hated being called out on it and reminded, again, that the girl was technically senior OP despite her junior status, but dammit, Tony was right. Granger had made the call nothing was going on, even though Nat had stayed for another full twelve hours.

"Then you've got nothing to complain about. Say, I and Clint and a couple of others are going bowling. Wanna come?"

"Seriously, Stark? Bowling?"

"Yeah! Sure, why not? I get tired of doing the same old same old. What do you say?"

"I'll take a hard pass."

"Suit yourself."

Hermione rolled over, digging her wand into the throat of whoever had helped themselves into her bed in the tower.

"You're going to kill me with that one of these days, aren't you?" Clint drawled in her ear, and she huffed, shoving the length of wood back under her pillow.

"Bloody hell. How did you get in here? I put up wards."

"You didn't change your password."

"Fuck a duck."

"I'd rather fuck you."

The archer poked her in the side with his hard cock, and she rolled over away from him. "Go to sleep."

"Aw, c'mon, doll! I scored a 70 average at bowling. Doesn't that count for something?"

"I'm not celebrating your bowling score. It's been a really long day."

Clint flopped onto his back and started stroking himself, grinning when only a few moments later, Hermione flipped back over. He could feel her eyes on him in the dark.

"You're really going to make me do this, aren't you?" she asked rhetorically, and he shrugged. "Because there is no way you were just about to get yourself off in my bed without taking care of me first."

"You told me to go to sleep. What can I say? Rubbing one out helps me sleep."

"Come here, you big jerk," she grumbled, pulling him on top of her and trapping his naked waist with her legs around it.

"Damn. No panties?"

"A girl has to be prepared."

"Prepared for what? Or, who, exactly?" he growled, circling his groin and pressing it against her wet heat.

"There's only one Avenger that I want," she teased, pressing back, reaching down to grab his ass and pull him tighter to her.

Clint shoved her flimsy nightgown up, and she wriggled out of it, his head lowering to capture a nipple between lips and fingers.

"Oh yeah? Must be a lucky guy."

"Who said it was a guy?"

"Oh, ho!" he laughed into her chest. "I'm telling Nat you have the hots for her bod."

"You do, and I'm wearing granny jammies to bed from now on. And putting wards on my bed you don't know the password to."

"You do that. I'll just find a way around it."

"I'd like to see you try it."

"Don't tempt me, doll. If it means I get a piece of this hot ass, I'll choose you every time."

"You know how to flatter a girl."

"I try."

Words faded into memory as their bodies took over, and he slid easily into her heat, making love to her slowly and thoroughly. When they lay together, sweaty and sated, she asked him, "How did things go with the kids?"

Clint blew out a hard sigh, hands behind his head. "My teenager is giving Laura some trouble. Threatened to run away a couple of times. I had to talk to her. Lila isn't happy with it, but I convinced her to go to counseling with her mom."

"What else?" she asked, lying on her side and stroking her fingertips across his stubbled jaw.

He turned toward her in the dark. "I didn't say there was anything else," he replied but knew his girlfriend wouldn't let it drop. Somehow, she was always able to tell when something more was bugging him. "Alright, alright. Um, Lila told me – and this is in confidence, I didn't want to upset Laura because I told Lila it wasn't going to work – but um, she expressed a strong desire to come live with me."

"At the tower?" Hermione laughed, going silent when his solemn nod allowed her to feel it through her fingers on his jaw. "Damnit."

"Yeah. I told her it's not that simple. I mean, she would miss all of her friends, starting over at a new school. She's got it in her head she can do this online thing, researched it and everything. I told the kid I can't protect her if she's living here. The tower is one of the most dangerous places for her to be. Yeah, sure, she'd be surrounded by some of the strongest people on the planet. But we're also a bad guy magnet. If someone found out she was here, well, put it this way; Lila doesn't understand she would never be able to set foot out of here. It would be too much of a security risk."

"You did well. That must have been a tough conversation."

Clint grabbed her wrist and kissed the inside of her palm, slowly starting to rise off the bed and kiss his way up her arm, growing hard again when Hermione let out a low moan. "Yeah, it was. I've got a feeling she's not going to listen to me."

"So, you're having her watched."

Clint didn't say anything, and she pushed his chest lightly to get him to answer her. "Fine! Yeah, I am. She can't just go running off like some stupid teen just because her mom and I split up, and she's got delusions of superhero life running through her head."

"Clint, she's so isolated out there. There's what, ten kids in her school? How many of those is she close to?"

"None," he admitted, pushing his hand through his hair. "I mean, she's fond of the younger ones, but the older ones are twin brothers, and all they do is tease her."

"Damn boys."

"Tell me about it," he responded, but she could hear the grin in his voice. "Okay, so she's lonely. What am I supposed to do, up and relocate her? That wouldn't be conducive to keeping them safe."

"You might not have a choice. How's Laura going to feel if Lila runs away, and she's got the two little ones to worry about and no one to help her look after them while worrying herself sick about Lila?"

"Fuck, doll, you know damn well Tony would have the entire team out looking for her."

"Right, but that isn't going to solve the relationship issues. She's obviously craving your attention."

This pushed a hot button because Clint jumped up from the bed, flipping on a lamp, agitated and pacing. "What the hell do you want me to do? I've got a full-time job – a contract – I'm on call pretty much all of the time. I can't just go running every time my kid threatens to run away."

"Maybe you should take a leave of absence," Hermione suggested, and he just stared at her like she was nuts.

"You're not joking."

"No, I'm not. Family first, remember?"

Reaching in, Clint dragged his girlfriend up from the bed onto her knees, kneeling and kissing her with a desperation that confused and thrilled her. "You're my family now," he told her, his voice husky with arousal again.

"Yes, I am," she agreed, "But they were in your life first, and should come first. I'm not saying your kids don't come first so shush!" she told him when his lips opened to protest, holding one of her fingers over the lush flesh and giggling when he kissed the pad of her index finger. "Blended families, especially those involving superheroes, spies, agents, and all of this hidden, classified bullshit, don't mix well. Coming into this, you knew it was going to be incredibly difficult. Hell, Clint, you didn't even tell the rest of the Avengers about your house and family until they needed to use it to hide out."

He tried pushing her down on the bed to overwhelm her with his sexual physicality, but she wasn't having it, and neatly slipped his grasp, twisting her body until she bounced out of bed, grabbing her sweats and slipping them on while he just leaned with both hands on the mattress, head down. "Where are you going?" he asked, and she could hear his disappointment.

"To the gym. You can stay here if you want, but I don't think I can sleep."

"Please come back to bed."

"No, you need to think about this and take it seriously."

A hot rush of adrenaline coursed sharply through Clint's chest, and he spun quickly, hands clenched at both sides, shouting at her. "I DO take it seriously! Otherwise, I wouldn't have flown out to see what was up with Lila! I wouldn't be discussing this with you at all!"

Hermione noted how heavily he was breathing, sweat beading on his brow despite the coolness of her rooms. "If it's a chore, then don't bother," she returned. "There is an issue here that you need to work out, and it isn't something that has to do with you and me. It's between you and your family. I am going to request that you do not shout at me, or take out your frustrations on me because you're having a hard time handling your emotions and priorities."

Clint locked his jaw squarely, grinding his teeth. "You need to go, or I'm going to say something I'm going to regret."

"Right, I'll just be off, then. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, whatever."

He ran a shaking hand through his hair and turned away from her. Feeling her heart drop a bit with confusion and sadness, she shook her head and went down to the gym, working herself into utter exhaustion, but feeling much better for the outlet. When she returned to her room, Clint had left her a note apologizing and telling her he was requesting leave. She smiled softly, fingering the note and mouthing the words, "Luck, my love."


	5. Chapter 5

Things were quiet around the compound for a couple of weeks. The atmosphere of camaraderie improved. Hermione missed Clint like crazy but texted back and forth regularly. He apologized again and sent her flowers, which earned her a ribbing from Tony, but she only gave him the finger this time, so he got off easy.

It appeared Clint was working things out with Laura and Lila, but didn't say what arrangement they had come to, just that there would be more time adjustments in his schedule, and had been tricky, but was thankful Hermione had pushed him to go the extra mile.

Hermione trained hard, upping her game to keep up with the others. She was physically fit, but not at razor's edge like the majority of the team. Bruce was probably the only other one not more fit than she was, so naturally, she challenged him to train with her in the gym to get him out of his lab. At first, he'd balked at the idea until she noticed he was getting tension headaches and felt immediately a thousand times better after a good sparring session.

While Bruce was turning into a good buddy, Thor was the only other one that didn't seem to dance around her, avoid her, treat her with kid gloves, or act like she had the plague. Well, Bucky wasn't too bad either but seemed to ping-pong between shy, wary, and friendly. It seemed very juvenile, how the rest of them were acting, or not acting, preferably, but there was nothing for it except endure, deflect, confront, and work through it until they got to know her, and she, them. Well, Loki was an exception. He didn't seem to give a shit about anyone except for himself, or how something benefitted or inconvenienced him.

Hermione asked Tony if there was any work. He said everything was unusually quiet, but that they were under orders not to wander too far. Fury was paranoid the 'other shoe' would drop at any moment, and they'd get bombarded, so wanted the team to train and do 'team-building' activities, whatever that meant. So far, nothing had been sicced on the group, and she put it out of her mind.

A new training schedule rolled in just when the routine was getting stale, and Hermione was forced to trade partners. It was an excellent opportunity to assess her strengths and weaknesses against the others. Finally, she was also allowed to use her magic once they had figured out how to erect wards that didn't fry all the equipment. Tricky, but do-able, and it earned her recognition with MACUSA and offers from back home to take up additional research, which she politely declined, happy with where she was at.

The very first person after Bruce she was pitted against was Loki. Oh, that smug, arrogant smile of his. He was obviously used to intimidating those who didn't know him. Still, he didn't know her very well yet, or she, him, and they would both be unwise to underestimate the other. Unsure of where to start, Loki sauntered in twenty minutes late, trying to spook her during her warm-ups, but she merely turned and kept on, saying, "You ready?"

"Eloquent, as all Midgardians, I see," he sneered, losing his expression when she turned her back to him again and began another set of warm-ups, ass pointed towards him. Up and down, up and down she went, his eyes following, tilting his head sideways.

"When you're done staring at my ass-ets, can we get going? I've got other plans today besides kicking your ass."

"You wish, mortal."

"Are you going to do anything constructive or just run your mouth?"

Oooh, this one had claws. He rather liked that. Well then. Stripping to a tight black t-shirt and loose jogging pants, going barefoot as she was, he shook out his limbs, rolled his neck from side to side, and cracked his back.

"Let's 'do this,' shall we?" he beckoned as she turned around, motioning to her with a 'come and get it.'

"Sure."

Hermione whipped out her wand, stunned him, and blew him into the opposite wall. She blew on the tip of her wand like it was a smoking gun, waiting for him to extricate himself from the crumbling mess. "Tony isn't going to like that!" she called out. "Probably take it out of your pay!"

"You will PAY DEARLY for that, wench!" he growled across at her, shaking the dust from his black attire. With a flash of his hand, his Seidr went into high gear, and there were suddenly multiple copies of him running right at her.

Hermione cast a room-wide stunning spell that had him slamming back into the wall again, this time on the opposite end. "I'm waiting!" she yelled. Folding her arms, she yawned, letting her wand dangle from her fingertips, waiting for him to catch up to her, knowing he was going to reveal a trick or two in three, two, one…

Loki APPEARED to be still walking toward her, when very strong, whipcord-thin arms flung themselves around her middle, effectively immobilizing her when one large hand clamped both of her arms together with ease, and the other one stuffed something into her mouth mid-yawn, so she couldn't speak.

Hermione was impressed. She had figured Loki was no slouch but wanted to get the full measure of what he could do, knowing he would hold back if she didn't give him some incentive, due to Thor's nagging that they could seriously hurt someone if the brothers weren't careful.

A little thrill ran through her as Loki's sinfully masculine voice stroked her eardrum. "What's the matter, darling, cat got your tongue? Not so cheeky now, are we?"

He shook her arms, hard, making her wince from the strength he engaged, and she was forced to drop her wand. The duplicate Loki caught up to them, raised its hand, and stroked down her temple, over her cheek and around to her chin as if inspecting her.

"You weren't expecting that, were you, little kitten?" he hissed, then licked the shell of her ear.

Okay, that was a little too close for comfort. Instead of kicking out or struggling, she closed her eyes and ground back into his groin, making him groan. The duplicate Loki vanished as his concentration wavered.

"What do you think you are doing, hmm? I don't think your archer boyfriend will react well when I inform him of your wanton flirting during a training exercise."

Nevertheless, Loki took advantage and ground into her backside, although no arousal was evident - yet.

"Oh yes, if you want to dance with a God, let me instruct you how to do so properly, you luscious little tart."

And then, Hermione was gone.

Loki blinked as his arms slammed back into his chest the instant she disappeared from his grasp. He whirled around to strike and found the tip of her wand pressed into his jugular.

"If you want to dance with a mortal, you need more practice, my LORD," she teased, then lowered the tip of her wand and bowed to him slightly.

Bringing his hands up into a slow clap, he stalked forward until he was in her personal space, towering over her. To his irritation, the intimidation tactic didn't work. "How did you get away from me without your little stick?" he asked in a low voice.

"That's for me to know, and you to never find out," she grinned, then dared to turn her back to him and walk out of the gym. "Come up with some better moves next time! I want an actual challenge!"

Loki narrowed his eyes. Oooh, she'd just upped the stakes significantly. No one one-upped Loki Odinson and got off scot-free. Oh no. Especially not an upstart Midgardian witch. Archer boyfriend or no, he would make sure she paid in spades at their next training session.

Disappearing, he portaled back to his quarters to contemplate the tricky little thing that had outsmarted him.

Hermione showered and changed, feeling spunky after her little victory over the God of Mischief. She wasn't so foolish as to believe he wouldn't pay her back somehow, but it kept things interesting. If he'd wanted to, Loki could have already hurt or killed her, of that she was sure. He was one of the more interesting characters around here. He wasn't afraid of her, not that any of them were, but he didn't hide and also didn't make any overt attempts to get to know her better, either. Loki wasn't a gossip, as much as he threatened to tell Clint. If he did, it would spoil their little game they'd started.

Wandering into the main kitchen area, she dug around in the fridge and frowned. Noise was coming from the common area, so she walked over to see who all was over there and put her hands on her hips. "Really, guys? I bought that to make dinner and dessert, not for you to chow on as a snack. I guess you'll have to find your own food then for later."

Thor, Steve, and Bucky gave each other 'the look,' slowly putting the food down, but she just waved them away. "No. Go ahead, I don't mind, really. Just, next time you see something marked 'off limits,' maybe respect that?"

Having permission to resume chowing, Thor picked up the pre-cooked chicken and saluted her with it. "Thank you, my Lady! You are most generous!"

"Yeah, I guess so. I think we need to up the grocery order, though. Or I need to get a mini-fridge for my quarters. I'm sensing a pattern with you guys that nothing is sacred when it comes to food and a common kitchen."

"Hey, we were hungry, can you blame us?" Bucky asked her around a mouthful of taco shells and cold pre-cooked hamburger.

"You remind me of my ex-boyfriend," she told him, placing her backside on the very end of the couch next to Steve.

"Really? Uh, thanks!" he responded, and she smiled sweetly. "That wasn't a compliment."

Steve laughed and slapped Bucky on the back, practically making him choke. "You walked right into that one, Buck," he teased.

Thor leaned over and offered her the bowl of cold chicken slices, and she just raised her hand. "No, thanks. You need it more than I do."

"Again, you are most generous."

"I know. And you love me for it."

"I do!" Thor boomed, merry as ever. He picked up the remote and changed it to a wrestling program from the football game that had been on.

"Aw, man, come on!" Bucky complained, trying to snatch the remote from Thor, who held it above his head, waving it around out of his reach.

"I tire of grown men throwing a ball across a field and tackling one another over it. Now, this is a real sport. A bit on the weak side, but with the basic principals we employ on Asgard with full bodily contact sport."

Hermione glanced at the TV, incredulous Thor was referring to professional wrestlers as 'weak.'

Apparently, Steve had the same thought because he voiced it just before she could comment. "You think those guys are weak? Look at'em! Sure, they aren't as strong as you, but they are far from weak!" Munching on graham crackers and pudding, he glanced guiltily up at Hermione, who only upped the corners of her lips in a small smile and shook her head, indicating she really was fine with it. His attention returned to the God of Thunder as the man sand the praises of his own prowess.

"I could easily beat any of them in combat," Thor boasted, and Hermione could tell he was trying to wind Steve up, finally giving up the remote to Bucky, who promptly switched it back to the football game.

"I'd wager you could not best me in a wrestling match, friend," the blond God goaded, and Hermione was amused when Steve tensed.

"Is that a challenge?"

"If you wish it. But if you are afraid you will lose…"

"You're on Muscles. Tomorrow, training room, you and me. Count of three pinned down, winner. We'll settle this once and for all."

"You honor me. I accept your challenge."

Thor reached over, and they shook on it. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Men," she muttered.

"Are you leaving already?" Thor boomed after her, and she nodded. "I'm allergic to this much testosterone. It makes me gag."

"Well, excuse us for setting up a little competition, miss High-and-Mighty," Steve slipped out and growled when Bucky elbowed him hard in the side. "Hey!"

"Don't talk to her like that, punk!" Bucky hissed.

Intrigued, Hermione hung out in the doorway to hear it play out, Thor's eye waffling between the two friends and Hermione.

"I'll talk to her; however, I won't trust her. She shouldn't even be here. Don't you see how she's screwing with Clint? I watched her training with Loki awhile ago, and she cheated, rubbing her ass up against the guy. There's something not right about her, and I'm going to find out what."

Hermione took that as her cue to make him even more uncomfortable. "When you find out what it is, let me know! I'll talk to my therapist about it!"

Steve tensed again and muttered, "Shit. I thought she was gone."

"She is now! Bye, Bucky, bye, Thor! Good riddance, Steve!"

Bucky just shook his head at Steve. "I don't know what your problem is. She's a sweet kid, and Clint's in love with her. Leave'em be, will ya?"

"She's got an angle, I'm telling you," he responded but grew silent when Thor stood up and stared down at him with anger rolling in those blue eyes.

"I do not appreciate how you speak of the Lady. I've seen nothing untoward with her, and she has been on assignment with Natasha. No reports have been filed of misconduct. You best watch your words, lest you eat them."

Thor left the room, slamming the door on the way out so hard it fell off its hinges, and he just left it there.

"I'm not hungry anymore. Get a grip. Don't make an enemy of her. The team doesn't need it."

"The team doesn't need HER!" Steve tried to reason, but Bucky abandoned Steve as well, disgusted with the turn of events.

Blowing out a hard sigh, Steve gathered all of the leftover food in front of him and settled back to watch the rest of the game, pleased to have all of the food to himself. It made an excellent before-dinner snack.


	6. Chapter 6

Sparring between Thor and Bucky the next day was quite entertaining if a bit bloody and brutal. Neither enhanced man nor God pulled punches. Although Bucky came away worse for wear, his aggression had been momentarily sated. Thor looked pleased as punch, waving off attempts at help as he strolled back to his quarters, swinging his hammer around.

Opening the door to his living space, he hesitated, not looking back. "Do you wish to speak with me, my Lady? I wish to cleanse my body of combat first if you do not mind waiting."

"I don't mind," Hermione agreed pleasantly, following on his heels and settling herself into his massive couch and taking in her surroundings. Fiddling with her wand, she waited until he emerged, clean and dressed, admiring his muscular physique before focusing on the topic at hand when he gave her an expectant look, toweling off his hair.

"What do some of the others have a problem with? Is it me personally? Is it Clint? Or just the fact that we're together, and I'm a newer team member?"

Without answering, Thor gave her a side glance and went into his kitchen area. "Tea?" he offered, and she accepted with grace, patient enough for him to let his thoughts simmer with the water.

At last, he joined her, and she could see why the couch was built so sturdily. If it had been ordinary furniture, it definitely would have had its limits tested, although the tower's common room furniture didn't seem to suffer too much. But then, Tony sprung for only the best, she mused.

After fixing their tea and sipping quietly, he turned towards her slightly. "I did not take you for one to avoid a direct consultation with those that aggrieve you," he stated calmly.

She nodded once, setting her cup down on the table in front of them. "Normally, I go straight to the source. Except the source is coming from multiple directions, and I'm having a hard time keeping up with the relationships between those in the group. Some avoid me, others won't answer my simple questions, and the most I get out of even those I'm familiar with, such as you, don't give me more than everyday, light-hearted topics to discuss such as the weather or duty. Why is that?"

Thor rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "' Tis true, I suppose. I hadn't thought of my approach in such a manner. You speak fairly. In answer to your question, it is complicated."

"I figured as much, and I don't expect you to know all of the answers. But I would like a few. What we speak of in here will be kept in the strictest confidence."

"You sound as the Midgardian counselors do."

She smirked a little back at him, picking up her cup again. "I'm pretty well-rounded." At his confused look, she clarified, "It means I've had a bit of training or study in nearly every discipline. If you haven't noticed, I'm a bit of a bibliophile."

"Ah, yes, as is my brother. I often see you or him wandering the halls or basking in the commons with your nose in some fairly weighty tomes."

"Right. So, just start at the beginning. The people most suspicious of me seem to be Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff. I kind of get why Natasha is suspicious, being a former spy and assassin, and a very close partner to Clint. But Steve? He's an enigma. I don't think I've given him any reason to hate me."

"He does not hate you," Thor quickly clarified, draining his cup and staring into space. "He is reticent to trust after doing so blindly when we've welcomed new, untried team members into the fold."

"But I'm not untried, green, as it were. I have loads of experience under my belt, and what I lack in, I'm getting the training for. Hell, I'm even pursuing more than what's required of me. What more do they want?"

Thor looked thoughtful, continuing his line of thought. "Trusting blindly has almost cost the team our lives, the trust of one another, or simply hurt one another to the extent it's broken up the Avengers on more than one occasion. What we have here is built on a foundation of such pain, comrades in arms battling, sometimes to the death, next to one another in glorious combat. We've been taken to task by Midgard's world leaders. Led astray more times than I care to count. At any time, Loki or I may be called back to Asgard. Peace in the Nine has always been tenuous at best. Perhaps he dares not extend you the courtesy of trust until you have earned it. As to what more of you they wish to see, or expect? I know not."

"He's looking for me to prove myself, is that it?"

"Aye, mostly."

"Maybe it was a bit naïve of me to accept this position and assume I'd just be welcomed into the fold. I mean, it makes sense. Sometimes I can't see what's right in front of me because I get so caught up in more cerebral pursuits."

Thor put a big hand on her forearm and smiled. "Aye, but that is what friends are for, are they not? To help one distinguish, what is it, you say? To see the forest for the trees?"

She put her opposite hand on top of his and smiled back. "Are we friends?"

"Aye," he confirmed once more, withdrawing from her to stand and take their empty cups to set in the sink.

"You make a wonderful cuppa, Thor. Thank you. I might have to come by more often and take advantage of your mad tea-making skills."

"You are most welcome anytime to visit. It can be rather lonely, at times. We all are pre-occupied, as of late, one of which the topics are you and friend Clint." He stood at the sink, head down, avoiding looking at her. Hermione figured it was easier for him to say what needed to be said without looking her in the eye at that moment, so she afforded him that.

"I would be lying if I told you that I do not have misgivings about inter-personal relationships of a carnal or romantic nature in our place of work when they are pursued between team members. Such liaisons rarely end well for either party. Yet our ability to form bonds outside of a strict and demanding work environment is such that we are unable or highly unlikely to do so anywhere other than where we reside. It is a puzzle; a job hazard, if you will."

Hermione leaned against the island counter and hummed her agreement. "I truly don't want to be the cause of discord amongst the team. Really, I don't."

"You are not."

"You just said so yourself that I am a source of trouble between the team, big guy," she teased gently, and he turned, looking at her seriously but smiling, leaning on his large forearms on the opposite side of the counter from her.

"I suppose I have. Do not feel you must change who you are for the sake of other's misgivings."

"Is my relationship with Clint the only thing the team is worried about?"

Thor's eyes darkened just a bit, and his lips pursed slightly.

Hermione just nodded. "I guessed as much."

"But I've told you nothing!" he protested, eyes going wide.

"I've experienced this my entire life. A magic-user doesn't need anyone else to tell them when they are feared, misunderstood, or at the very least, not trusted. It's normal not to trust what you don't understand. After a while, people get pretty easy to read. Call it a sixth sense, but using magic so often hones all of the senses. One can't help but notice when the 'vibe' between themselves and another person is off. Nine times out of ten, if the other party is unfamiliar with magic and knows that you wield it, that's where the uncomfortable dynamic comes from. People just don't trust me." She shrugged as if it didn't bother her, although clearly, it did.

"I trust you!" Thor protested. Softening the boom in his voice, he amended, "I do trust you. Loki has expressed much the same perspective you've put forth, although not as plainly put. I often thought he complained to hear his own voice, that he was reading intentions and attitudes that were not there. I regret that I ignored, even vexed him with taunting words, such that he's turned from me to the point he no longer sought me out on matters of a personal nature. Especially those involving anything non-physical."

She reached across the island. She tangled her fingers in his, letting him idly examine the delicacy of her bone structure. "I believe you when you say you trust me. I trust you, and each and every one of the Avengers."

"You honor us with unwavering, stout faith, my Lady."

"It's more than that. Far more. If we can't trust one another, there's no point in being a team. You said it yourself; any rift in the team could bring it down. It seems as if I'm the weakest link."

"You are not!" Thor contended once more, imploring her with both hands now wrapped around her petite one. "Do not say such things!"

Gently pulling away from him and standing up, wrapping both arms around her middle, she stared at him but not really seeing. "I came here to ask you for the truth. You've provided that brilliantly."

"No. No! I will not allow you to leave the team because of some personal problems the others have with your abilities!"

"I don't plan on leaving the team. But I need to speak to Tony. When I worked directly for SHIELD, my magic abilities were a boon to them, but then, they had my entire file. Perhaps I need to petition the higher-ups to reveal all of it to all of you, so a fair judgment of my character and ability to fit in can be made. Right now, all they see is someone that is keeping secrets. It wasn't my decision to keep my file sealed, and I'm not exactly forbidden to tell anyone about the contents. I've always – um – just naturally been a bit secretive due to events in my past."

Thor sidled around the island and opened his arms. "Come here, little one. Partake in comfort as a brother would offer to his sister warrior-in-arms."

Feeling a bit bereft and alone, she took him up on his offer, ridiculously short next to his colossal stature but feeling relieved when he pulled her into his side. Her nose buried itself into his shirt, and she allowed one arm to unfold and hug him back around his middle. They stood in a side-arm hug for a few moments before parting.

"Thank you. I needed that, I think. Clint and I – well, we didn't exactly part on the best of terms. I'm starting to think what you've told me people are thinking is right. We started our relationship based on sex, which I admit isn't the wisest way to go about starting out with someone. But we clicked. We really did, and I felt like it was enough."

"Now, you are allowing others to color your perspective."

Looking up at him, she searched his face, genuinely concerned. "Isn't that just it, though? In the heat of a new relationship, you look at the world with rose-colored glasses." Correcting herself hurriedly at another slight frown, she amended, "What I mean to say is everything is new, and it seems as if nothing is wrong. You overlook all of one another's flaws. It's not until everything settles down that you start noticing your partner picks their nose, leaves their wet towel on the bathroom floor, or steals the covers at night. But for those that are outside of your relationship that know your partner better than you do, well, they don't see things that way, do they? Maybe what they're seeing is a truer representation than what I'm seeing. I need to think about this is all."

"You will break friend Clint's heart if you end things with him."

"I have no intention of breaking up with Clint!" she retorted indignantly, pushing his shoulder without much effect. What saddened her, though, was that Thor looked genuinely relieved, revealing he believed she actually would have done something like that over mere speculation.

"Your other idea bears merit. It should not be so, but if you were to reveal your past, it would go a very long way in securing the bonds that need forging between you and the team."

"Or it could drive an even bigger wedge into the rift between them and I."

"Is your past so terrible?" he asked, motioning for her to sit again, which she did, this time in a chair opposite the couch, also massive. She looked like a doll sitting in it, perched on the edge.

"Some of it. I've killed people."

"We have all killed people."

"True," she mused. "Magic isn't something the general population understands. Some people look at it like a genie. In stories –"

"I am aware of the conceptual stories of the genie in the lamp. The Captain has been most helpful in helping me catch up on Midgardian folklore and 'pop culture'."

She smiled at him. It was weird hearing the God of Thunder say 'pop culture'. "Alright. Well, my magic is obviously different than Loki's."

He nodded. "No one's magic is quite like another's."

"Yes. You understand, good. Well. Other people are just afraid of it, and they don't trust it. Magic has the potential to be good or bad; the intent of a spell or action the defining purpose. Where someone is more likely to trust an attractive, smiling face telling them what they want to hear, you don't get an advantage when using magic. In the magical world, it's just accepted, like eating and sleeping and breathing. But the concept in the Muggle world, as we call non-magical folk, is so foreign and blown out of proportion by our media, it's not one they can get behind very easily. We are automatically villains with evil intent. Guilty until proven innocent, unless it benefits the public in an incredibly tangible manner. Even then, the coverage of using magic isn't often flattering."

"Another excellent observation. My brother Loki is called 'Silver Tongue.' He's bewitched many a maiden into his bed and has been sent as the mouthpiece of Odin on minor diplomatic missions. He wears many masks, one of which he puts forth as being the polished, genteel statesman. Others much older than he, with more experience, should lead such missions, but Loki's charm wins far greater benefits with most dignitaries and foreign governments than the plain-looking, dull old advisors."

On Asgard, magic isn't taken for granted, but it is a normal part of life. Much of our culture relies on such to keep up day to day operations of the kingdom, and the Realms eternal. It did not occur to me how much I, myself, took for granted until I've come to live here. For a while now, I've seen how others have treated Loki. I've thought it was not only for past actions he's taken but atoned for but also because of his title, the God of Mischief and Lies. You've brought me an additional perspective to reflect upon."

"My files will explain a lot, and I hope they help. Unless and until there's an attitude shift in general, at least within the Avengers, towards the use of magic, then a true partnership can't be reached. Loki is much more powerful than I am, but again, our powers are different. He can withstand a great deal of pain and injury, healing quickly. Despite being a powerful magic wielder, I'm still just a human, with the same frailties we all have. That's why I've been training so much."

"Surely they cannot expect you to attain the level of skill the others have had years to hone! It's simply not done!"

"I've had my use of magic constantly challenged since I set foot in here the day Tony hired me. I don't need my wand to conduct magic, but that's not a fact I like to advertise if you don't mind," she cautioned, accepting his solemn nod. "All the same, I leave my wand behind or in my workout bag with it unzipped so I can summon it in an emergency. It's seen as a crutch, an aid, and their fear is legitimate that I'm not very strong without it. Although I work constantly to strengthen my wandless and non-verbal magical ability, in truth only decades of discipline can attain the same level of skill one has with a wand unless they have a natural affinity for it. Training in physical modalities such as strength, weapons, stealth, and so much more, is adding a valuable skill set to round out my abilities, and I'm grateful for the Avenger's efforts, even if they are hard on me. I'd rather they didn't pull their punches."

"They are much too hard on you. It is not right."

"Because I'm a woman?" she challenged, bristling a bit.

"Not at all. There are women warriors on Asgard. The Lady Sif fought from commoner to great warrior all of her own mettle. She earned the respect of others through blood and sweat and tears. One starting out training should not be so harshly treated. This is not a competition of perfection, and their treatment of you does not broker the trust they seek."

"They're not looking for me to trust them, they're looking for a way to validate their mistrust in my abilities. Being with Clint just seems like an additional reason for them to cling to their lack of trust like I have some ulterior motive."

"Do you?"

"Do I what?" she asked, confused.

"Have an ulterior motive?"

Hermione just sat there, stunned, leveling Thor with an intense expression of disbelief. After all of the camaraderie he'd extended her, and the lovely tea and talk and comfort they'd shared as friends, the bottom line was he'd shown his hand; digging for information that she'd already freely given, and he'd seem to take her at her word, but now was proving otherwise.

A deep sting of mutinous anger welled up at the question when she realized he didn't trust her either, not truly at heart, or he would not have asked the question.

Traitorous tears fell from her eyes as she stood, angrily dashing them away. "I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer. If you don't know and believe what I've already told you, then nothing I say now is going to make a difference. I thought you were my friend. I'm a fool, in any world," she snapped, turning on heel and marching out of his quarters.

"My Lady Hermione! Wait! I – what have I done? What have I said to upset you so? Please, come back so we may discuss this further!"

She turned around at the door, glaring at him so hard he stepped back a full stride, intimidated by the blaze of anger in her eyes.

"Figure it out!"

"You ARE my friend. Nothing has changed!"

"Hasn't it? You just asked me if I had an ulterior motive for having a relationship with Clint. You may be able to fool yourself, but you're just like the rest of them if you can ask me something like that and then wonder why I'm angry."

"I don't see why-" Thor caught himself and thought, really thought as she stared a hole into him. The realization came crashing down, and his face sank into a remorseful study of angst. "No! I did not intend to-"

"Shh. It's alright," she told him, much more gently now that he'd caught his error. "Your response was honest. You're one of the only people here that's been honest with me, and I appreciate it. I guess I just thought you were different, and that I didn't have anything to prove to you."

"You do not! I did not mean it that way!"

"Didn't you?" She smiled sadly, some of her anger evaporating as a melancholy resignation set in. "You are one of the most open people I know. Maybe – maybe I need to rethink my assignment. I guess I should thank you. You've made clear a few points I was blinder to than I thought I was, and I have been so defensive about other's attitudes, at least in private, I never considered they were right."

"Right about what?" Thor inquired cautiously, unwilling to misstep again.

"That I'm not to be trusted, and am a liability. I – I need to think about this. I'll see you later at dinner, yeah?"

"You shall," he replied, watching the witch stride down the hall to her own quarters, only closing his door when she entered her abode and shut the door firmly behind her.

Electricity started to crackle, storm clouds gathering outside. Thor knew he needed to get away from the tower to expend the pent up frustration and energy that was building to dangerous levels within him. "JARVIS. Open skylight windows and close them when I am clear. I wish to depart for a few hours."

"Skylight windows opening."

Calling Moljnir, he set his teeth in a snarl and whirled it around, taking off through the skylight in the side of the building put in just for that purpose, streaking away as the storm clouds followed him. Once over the ocean, he quickly scanned the area for ships or planes. Finding none, he let loose with a mighty roar, letting electricity stream from him in every direction, lighting up the sky in a brilliant display of power.

He raged for well over an hour. Finally, he was spent, then allowed himself to travel to an uninhabited part of the shore, dropping his hammer to the beach, sitting next to it cross-legged. He lowered his head into his hands, letting the lapping waves on the shore calm him, even though the storm in his heart still brewed, his mind troubled and spirit restless. He must make amends with the Lady. He MUST.

Finally, the God of Thunder headed home, skipping dinner in place of ordering food to his private quarters and avoiding all attempts by his comrades to get him to join them in the common area.

Hermione showed up at the main table, ate quietly but barely tasting anything, and distantly noted the rise in chatter when she left the table and turned the corner out of the room. With a deep sigh, she went to find Thor, and not getting an answer, returned to her own quarters.

Tony watched her come and go with troubled eyes and cast them down at his plate. He knew something was wrong but didn't know what to do about it. His track record with women wasn't the best, and he figured she'd come around, or come to him if she needed anything.

Clint's texts went unanswered as Hermione soaked in the bath and let the tears fall. Would she ever fit in anywhere?


	7. Chapter 7

"Are you sure, Shortstop? Clint didn't mention anything about having you join him."

"I'm sure. I need to clear the air with him before I can concentrate on building more direct, meaningful relationships with the rest of the team."

"You shouldn't let Tasha and Capsicle get you down."

"I'm told their instincts have kept the team alive more than once."

"I concede you that point. However, it doesn't mean you aren't a valuable asset."

"Thor's said as much."

Tony shoved his hands in his pockets, coming around his desk and pulling a hand out to shake with hers. Hermione extended her own and took it, shaking it back warmly.

"Be safe."

"What will you tell the others when they notice I'm gone?"

"That's you've taken a sabbatical. Honestly? It's none of their fucking business. Hell, you just got done telling me Thor has reservations. I – I didn't know reassigning you here was going to cause problems. I really didn't. I wish I could say hindsight its 20/20, but Pepper would tell you all I'm seeing is the inside of my asshole."

Hermione laughed then, fiddling with her hair and securing her wand up the sleeve of her light jacket.

"I'm gonna miss you, kiddo. It won't be the same."

"I'm not going away forever. Just to work out this inter-personal thing. I think it'll be best to get it figured out before we come back to work, don't you?"

"Yeah. I guess so. Yeah. It is a good idea. Aw, fuck, Shortstop. I just – I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to put you on the spot."

"Tensions should settle around here, so the team is getting a break as much as Clint and I."

"Coulson's going to be on your ass. So is Fury."

"Tell me something I don't already know."

"Hahaa. So funny. Well, don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out."

"I won't. Hey, do me a favor?"

"Anything." Tony tried to be upbeat for her, but he hated making mistakes and refused to believe that having her join the team was a bad one. There were just a few kinks to work out, that was all. Right? Right, he told himself and believed it.

"Tell Loki I look forward to kicking his ass again when I get back, and tell Thor – tell Thor I'm not mad at him, and not to blame himself."

"Can I ask what for?"

Hermione smiled, sadly. "He'll know what I mean. Anyway, see you in a couple of weeks?"

"Yeah. I'll keep a light on so you can find your way home."

"Don't wait up, Dad," Hermione teased, and Tony groaned.

"Do NOT call me that!" he groused, and she waved.

"See you."

"Bye now."

Damn. Tony didn't pray much, but right now, he prayed to whoever and whatever was listening that his team would come back stronger than ever. His heart couldn't take another break up, even if it wasn't his own. He was invested in his Avengers family, more deeply than any of them suspected, except Pepper, of course.

Hermione shouldn't have been surprised to see Agent Coulson join her when Happy picked her up to take her to the airport, but all the same, she was. At the same time, she wished she would have just apparated, but she'd never been to where she was going and didn't want to waste her magical energy. That, and she'd needed more time to think of what she was going to say to Clint when she did see him.

As usual, she was early, but mostly having just wanted to escape the ever-more-oppressive feel within the tower. She couldn't seem to shake the disappointment she had in Thor's trust in her, or lack of it, instead. The poor guy wasn't even truly aware he had reservations until she'd pointed it out to him, and even then, she wasn't sure if he'd accept them as such. She took the rolling luggage from Happy and gave him a little squeeze, causing him to blush.

"I'll pick you up when you get back, Miss," he said, tipping his hat.

"Thanks, Happy. I don't know what I'd do without you. If I decide to Apparate back I'll give you a call so you don't waste a trip. I haven't bought a return ticket just yet."

"Aw. Alright, honey. Just -uh – say hi to everyone for me, will ya?"

"Will do," she drawled, and he grinned at her impersonation, tipping his hat.

When she turned, Agent Coulson offered to take her luggage and shrugged when she politely turned him down.

"Talk to me," he told her as they walked, and she thought about her rehearsed speech, shrugging and glancing at him as she sped up, Coulson easily matching her short stride.

"I would ask you how things are going, but I think I already know," he amended, looking straight ahead. He was heading in the direction of her terminal. Weird. What the hell didn't these guys know? Not much, she supposed and told him as much.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"I would rather hear the facts straight from the horses' mouth, Agent Granger," Coulson tried again, so she decided to bite.

"Alright, then." She told him an edited version of the truth, going through the motions as she had with Tony, describing the atmosphere, attitudes, and so on, and her reasoning for visiting Clint.

"He doesn't know you're coming," Coulson confirmed after she'd finished.

"No."

"Do you think that's wise, Agent?"

She stopped, pulling him to the side to get out of the flow of people. "If you have something to say, just say it. I get tired of the word and mind games you people play."

"You are one of those people. Don't forget that."

"Like I could. You won't let me."

Coulson didn't like the spike of anger in her voice but reacted calmly. He raised his hand to a little mic in his ear and pressed a button. "I'm going to tell her. Yeah. Okay then. Coulson out."

"Tell me what?" she asked suspiciously, fingering her luggage like she was about to hurl it at his head.

"Not here."

Ten minutes later, she was in some weird little cubicle, irritated that she was going to miss her flight. It wasn't cheap paying for shit last minute. She drummed her fingers on the small table, bottle of water glinting in the harsh light to her right, her chin resting in her other palm, elbow on the table.

Smooth as pie, Coulson slid in with her and shut the door. Soundproof. No cameras. Handy.

"Is this where they take people that are a security risk or something?" she asked.

Coulson smiled that mild grin again. "Or something." He arranged a few papers, shuffling them in that annoying bureaucratic way before looking up at her expectantly. "Agent Granger, what I am about to tell you goes no further."

"I took the damn oaths, Coulson!" she shot back. "Do you know how much those tickets cost me?"

"Ah. That's what you're worried about. I've already credited the money back to your account. In fact, if I approve of the direction in which this conversation goes, I'm willing to have you privately flown out to Barton's general area."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because you're going to help us out."

"Of course. Strings attached."

"You're the one who knew the game when you signed up for this."

"I know, I know, just spit it out," she sighed tiredly.

"Agent. You know how touchy the world is about magic, especially when Thor and Loki came planet-side. It took quite a while for people to accept them as Avengers, and many still don't like that Loki is set up as part of the Avengers team. He's been an invaluable asset."

"He's accepted there. Not everyone likes him or even trusts him fully, but they do with their lives. I've seen it with my own eyes. Clint got knocked off a training platform in one of the lower gyms. Loki could have let him fall, even pretended he didn't see it happen, but before anyone could blink, he was right there, letting his own body take the brunt of the fall. Clint relaxed a little around Loki after that. Not a lot. Just little things, saying hello in the halls and such. You can't compare my magic to his."

"You don't need to defend either Odinson. They are squarely and firmly part of the team."

"But I'm not."

He studied her, aware her own intelligent mind was turning at a high rate of speed. "Not really, no."

"I KNEW it!" she hissed. "Tony didn't have the authority to transfer me officially. Why did you let him think he did?"

"We needed you to go in cold. Blind. So the results wouldn't be skewed."

"Fuck's sake. WHAT Agent Coulson? What results?"

"Of how the team would take to a non-alien magic-user. If we could develop the same kind of trust with you as we'd found with the Odinsons."

"I'm a guinea pig."

"Of sorts. You're also one of the best damn agents I've ever seen, especially in the field. We're still hammering out details with MACUSA and your home Ministry's people over involving them in world affairs. They have every right to be cautious, it seems. I thought they were over-reacting, but what you've just told me confirms their suspicions; even our top heroes aren't accepting of what's right in front of their eyes."

"Thor seems to think it's because they don't know much about me. I don't know why you don't release my file. It's not top-secret information. Any of them could run into one of my friends eventually, if I stick around long enough, and find out what happened during the war. Hell. MACUSA is huge in the city. I'm shocked they aren't in on it yet. Hell, I could even tell the team myself, but most of them haven't given me a reason to just open up and sing like a canary."

"Oh, they know people like Dr. Strange exist, but he's not a part of the regular magical community. It's considered a higher classification than what the Avengers are assigned. We wanted you to make the decision as to how much to tell the team. It seems the mistrust goes both ways."

Hermione ignored the latter statement in light of the former revelation. "How am I worthy of a higher classification?"

"You are one of them. A magic-user," he added unnecessarily.

"You say that like I'm not part of both worlds."

"Are you, really?" Coulson questioned, steepling his hands. "What is your real motive for coming over here, Agent? You say you had several reasons, but our sources tell me you had a very high number of job offers before graduating from Hogwarts, with the highest NEWT scores in over fifty years. That's pretty impressive coming from one of the most prestigious wizarding boarding schools in Europe and on a full scholarship."

"My reasons haven't changed."

"You stand by your original assertions?"

"Yes. I don't appreciate the third degree."

"You're not under a magical oath, unbreakable or otherwise, to infiltrate SHIELD?"

"GOD! Why the hell are you asking me this now? This questioning should have been done at the pre-interview. Either your organization is extremely inept, or you know something you're trying to get me to admit to, which I honestly have no idea what that could be, to test my allegiance to the organization."

"I told my superiors you'd do well in upper management," Coulson grinned as if trying to disarm her. It wasn't working.

Hermione was impressed he hadn't asked for her wand, or cuffed her, for that matter. Then again, there were probably ten agents ready to put a bullet in her head if she stepped wrong. It might not be a bad idea to Owl Harry and invest in some of those protective amulet charms the twins were developing. Just in case.

"I honestly have nothing further to tell you. I think it's stupid you allowed me to transfer to Avengers tower under the guise of a relationship with Clint. That's piss-poor work, and you know it."

"We didn't orchestrate your meeting with Clint, and to be frank, weren't expecting that development," Coulson admitted grudgingly. "Tony happened to get a bug up his butt and force you two together." For once, Hermione gloated internally at the sour puss look on his face. "It happened to coincide with our plans."

"But your data was skewed because of it, and now you're at a crossroads and aren't sure whether to kill me, wipe my mind or tell me what it is you really want from me."

Coulson studied her carefully. He seemed to be thinking. If he thought the silence unnerved her, he was wrong. Even though both of her hands were on the table, it would only take a slight flick to send her wand into her hand from up her sleeve and apparate the fuck out of there. She held his gaze.

"You've got a good poker face."

"Get on with it," she gritted out, to which he laughed.

"We're not going to kill you. You're too good. It would raise too many questions we don't want to answer or coverup."

"I'm flattered," she deadpanned, but he continued without a beat.

"You're a smart woman. I like you. My instincts tell me you're trustworthy, and I'm rarely wrong. It's why I do the job I do."

"Lucky you."

"So here's the deal. You continue on, as usual, visit with your boyfriend, patch things up. Just try not to get too involved, although I know that's probably a lost cause. Keep it separate as much as possible from the team."

"Or you'll find a way to separate us to get the results you want, or return things to status quo like I was never there to begin with." At Coulson's acknowledgment of the positive, she nodded. "Go on."

"We still want you as an Avenger. It's just going to take more work. You will be assigned to a solo mission or two when you return in two weeks, or less if you feel your business is concluded with Agent Barton while he's dealing with his ex-wife."

"Okay. You've lost me. Assign me to what exactly?"

"These missions are designed to set you up to prove to the team you're trustworthy."

"You're orchestrating missions now? Doesn't that skew your precious data?"

"Not at all."

"I don't like the thought of putting myself or anyone else in danger for the sake of an experiment."

"Agent, this field of work is dangerous. The magical world has kept itself separate from us 'Muggles' for a very, very long time. For a good reason. It doesn't mean we haven't known about you. But it's been tricky to keep the infiltration secret."

Hermione suspected Coulson might be a squib with the casual way he threw out 'Muggles.' It wasn't generally a word used by non-magicals, and would make sense as to how involved and knowledgable he was about her world. "Coulson, if you think for one second the magical entities of the world don't know about your parlor tricks, you're mistaken. You see what they want you to see. I should know. I helped update their security protocols before I left the country."

Hermione wasn't sure if she liked the dumbstruck look on his face or not. Maybe she'd given too much away. Well, it didn't matter anyhow. Flip a coin. Fuck, marry, kill. At this point, what did any of it matter? She'd come to America to escape the games and found herself embroiled in an even deeper, trickier one.

"Well, that changes things a bit. I still want you to carry out this mission."

"How will you know if it's a success?"

"We have our ways."

"Right. Well. Be aware I don't intend to be 'terminated,' if that's a choice on any end-game box you might need to tick."

"No one does, Agent. No one does."

Coulson's shark smile looked ominous, and she felt a tiny frisson of fear. Instead of letting it show, she raised her chin. "I accept. I wish you would have approached me in the first place, but since you wanted to play dark and dirty, here we are. I don't like how you're going about it. It's fake. Natasha and Clint can smell fake from a hundred kilometers away. Don't think they won't know what you're up to. Even if everything appears legitimate, they'll know if it isn't."

"I suspect that if the mission is a success, you'll have forged naturally strong bonds with your teammates. That's all I ask. That, and keep your nose clean."

"I do my best," she returned drily. "Now, if that's all, I'd like to be on my way."

"Two weeks," Coulson told her, pointing while handing her a set of keys and papers. "Follow Agent Jenkins. He'll take you to a car, then to the jet. When it touches down, a rental car will be waiting. The black key is for the car. The other is for your hotel room. All expenses paid. Have a nice time. If anything changes, report in."

"Why bother? You'll have me followed anyway."

Coulson pressed his lips together, aggravated with her cheek, and the fact she knew what they were doing even though nothing had been said. It appeared SHIELD' s tactics were becoming transparent. Coulson put it on his mental to-do list to shake things up in management.

Without saying goodbye, she followed Agent Jenkins, motioning to him to get her luggage. When another agent had handed it to them, she left.

Coulson pressed the button on his earpiece. "Operation Charm is in effect. Cancel the follow. She'll just slip it as soon as she lands. The tracker's in place in the key fob. Coulson out."

"That girl is going places," he murmured to himself, then whistled a jaunty tune as he gathered up the rest of his paperwork, stuffed it in a briefcase, and took off for his next appointment.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione smirked to herself as she flipped through the random stations in her rental car. There weren't many, but that was okay. The area was very rural, so she hadn't expected much. What was funny, in her own mind at least, was the dismay on the face of any agent that had been sent to follow her. The witch wasn't stupid, and she knew Coulson knew she wasn't, as well. Yet they still treated her like a rookie. Planting tracking devices were standard. Keeping tabs on and following her was standard. It would take a lot more than Coulson's faux-disarming smile to pull the wool over her eyes

Fair enough. If they were testing her, they weren't going to find her tripping up over rookie mistakes. Maybe this whole thing was meant to intimidate her. Get on her last nerve or some such bullshite. Did it matter?

The Owl to Harry would have to wait. It's not like Owl post was a regular thing this far out in the 'sticks' as Clint would have coined the term. She only had a vague idea of where his house was, so she headed towards the tiny town in the distance.

The sky was beautiful; brilliant oranges, reds, golds, and hints of russet and purple, all turning to dark and shadowy starlight with only a sliver of waning moon left stamped into the birth of night.

A sign up ahead told her: City Limits – 'Welcome to Waverly, Iowa.'

How quaint. There couldn't be too many families in the area with the surname Barton. It seemed like most of the state had some of the same last names, if you were looking at the generational folks that had lived here most of their lives. Barton stuck out like a sore thumb to the trained eye.

Turning a sharp corner, she slowed down a little bit and, spotting movement, slammed on her brakes, skidding and screeching to a stop right before a guardrail plunged a hundred feet down into a gorge. Thank the GODDESS, there was no oncoming traffic, or any traffic at all, bless, for miles in either direction that she'd come across.

Swearing, she backed up and parked in the narrow space on the side of the road, thankful she'd rented a compact vehicle. Jumping out, she yelled at the girl that had been walking down the middle of the fucking road that she'd only barely avoided running over with the car.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, walking down the middle of the road? I could have killed you!" she shouted.

The girl stood off to one side, arms around herself as if huddling for warmth. She wasn't dressed well for the cold night air. As Hermione came closer, she saw the girl fearfully looking up at her from under long lashes, but she wasn't running. Her hair was the exact color of Clint's as was her eyes, but she had much more delicate facial features and was willowy thin, taller. If she didn't know what an over-protective father he was, she might have guessed the girl was related.

Hermione knew Clint had three kids; a teen girl, a tween boy, and a boy right around kindergarten age. The only pictures she'd seen of the kids were when they were much younger, the youngest child still an infant, and Clint in love with his wife. This young lady only vaguely resembled the family. It could be anyone's relatives. The heavy makeup didn't do her any favors.

Reaching out, the girl flinched, and Hermione jerked her hand back a bit. "Hey. I – I'm not going to hurt you. You just startled me. We got lucky, and I'm starting to calm down from my adrenaline rush," she soothed, which was a lie, but she didn't need to spook the girl if she was in trouble. Was she? She had a backpack slung over her shoulder, and her clothes had definitely seen better days. In fact, her face was dirty, hands full of dirt and scratches.

"Are you my ride?" she asked suspiciously.

It was a strange way to request a lift, but Hermione supposed it could be a regional way of asking for one.

"Yes. I'm headed towards town, though."

"Good. Yeah. Me too."

Which was also strange, because the girl had been headed in the opposite direction, clearly.

"Can I take your bag?" Hermione offered, but the girl shook her head quickly.

"Nah. I got it. Just – drop me off at the gas station. That's where we're supposed to be anyway."

"Are you meeting someone there?" Hermione asked as they climbed into the car, she in the driver's seat and the girl in the passenger's seat, respectively.

"Duh," was the only reply she got, then a muttered, "fucking foreigner. No wonder she was late."

"I beg your pardon?" the irritated witch bit out. This rude girl was getting on her nerves already, and she hoped it didn't represent the general attitude of the area's population, or this was going to be a harsh and/or short visit.

"What's your name?" Hermione asked, trying to be polite to the last, but the girl stared at her like she had two heads.

"Li-Linda."

Lie. Plain as the bad mascara job on her face. Hermione bet she was underage too. Still, the girl wasn't doing anything wrong, although hitchhiking anywhere these days was folly. She was lucky Hermione had stopped and not some creep.

She was about to ask the girl if she knew where the Barton residence was located when the girl pointed and said, "Let me out over there. I need to use the bathroom."

"I need petrol and a few supplies. Can I get you anything? I'll pay," and Hermione smiled at the perplexed expression looking back at her.

"Why are you being nice to me?" 'Linda,' asked her, genuinely puzzled.

"I'm nice to everyone."

"Right. Knew I wasn't special."

"Look – I –" Hermione was going to explain, but the girl cut her off again.

"Nevermind, lady. We got here. That's all that matters. You do what you gotta do. Don't forget your part," she hissed the last, impatiently unbuckling her seatbelt before Hermione had even stopped the car.

Before she could say anything further, the girl jumped out without looking back and headed to the side of the building marked, 'Restrooms' with signs for ladies and gents.

"Rude," Hermione muttered, then, "Good riddance to bad rubbish." It felt petty, but really, without knowing her, the girl came off as entitled and abrasive. Glad she was out of her hair, Hermione filled up the car with gas and pulled it up the few feet to the parking stalls, turning off the engine.

She looked around the side of the building but didn't see anything other than a parked semi, lights running overnight, probably a trucker sleeping until he could get up and get moving again. A dark sedan was parked further on at the edges of the street with a short row of houses further down. It really was a tiny town.

Not seeing the girl, Hermione sighed and went inside, selecting a few pre-packaged items to snack on until she could check into the hotel and get something more substantial in the morning. On a whim, she grabbed an extra bottle of water and a couple of candy bars. The girl might be hungry. The least she could do was get her something to eat and drink and maybe give her a few dollars to help her out. One never knew what situation someone else was in, and Goddess only knew Hermione was the last person to judge someone else. Plus, she felt like a bitch for thinking mean thoughts about the girl in the first place.

She placed her items up on the counter. The old man behind the counter put down his paper and smiled. "Good evening, little lady. New in town?" he asked, making small talk as he rang her up.

"Yes. I'm here visiting a friend. Perhaps you could help me. I know they live in the area, but my friend was vague about the details of where he lived, and there's no cell service where he's at. I'm worried about him and would like to check on him."

"Sure thing. I know most everyone 'round these parts," he proclaimed. "I was born in these here hills. My grandpappy came over from …." And he rambled on for a bit. Hermione paid, impatient for him to get on with it. Seeing as there as no one else around, she figured he was lonely.

After a couple of minutes, he finished his story. "So who was it you was lookin' for, missy?"

"The Barton residence."

"Oh! Well then. Them folks like to keep to themselves if you know what I mean. I dunno if I should tell you where they're about."

"I'm a personal friend of the family."

"How do they know you?" the old man named "Stuart" on his nametag asked her, a bit suspiciously.

This was getting tiresome.

"I work with Mr. Barton."

"You're not from around here. You're not one of them busy-body government folks, ar you? Nosing around? They in some kinda trouble?"

This was now bordering on ridiculous.

"No. Not that I know of. And no. I'm here as a concerned friend visiting a friend and co-worker. If you don't wish to tell me of their location, that's just fine, Sir. I'll be on my way."

"You watch yourself, missy. Folks 'round here don't take too kindly to strangers nosing around where they've got no business be'in."

"Goodnight, sir," she snapped, taking her stuff and pushing her way out. She heard the old man snort and say something rude, cut off when the door closed.

Honestly. This was starting to look like a bad idea. She should have tried to get a hold of him first but didn't know how often he came into town to check his messages. Or if he had any other kind of service at the house. He must. How else did he talk to Laura?

As these thoughts flew through her brain, she deposited her snacks and drinks in the car, wrapping the candy bars and water bottle with a 20 dollar bill in the plastic bag and rounding the corner. She had to use the loo as well. Hoping to catch the girl lingering outside, she looked up from fiddling with the bag to see the girl being dragged, literally, struggling with a man's hand over her mouth, across the dirty concrete to the sedan parked on the edge of the street.

Beyond that, another sedan, also dark in color, was parked with its lights off, engine running, window rolled down, and a man in a dark suit gesturing to the one inside the car in the driver's seat, pointing back at the girl. They seemed to be arguing about something.

"Be quiet, you bitch!" the man dragging the girl growled, and she kicked out, her frightened eyes spying Hermione.

The witch wasn't sure what made her break her training, and later she'd curse herself a thousand times over for making the rookie mistake she'd just sworn to herself Coulson would never catch her making.

She yelled out, "Hey! You there! Let her go!" Mistake number one. Alerting the enemy to her presence, and losing the element of surprise.

She winced as soon as it was out, but it was too late.

He turned in surprise and pulled a gun, putting it to the girl's head. "Back off, or I'll blow her brains out!" he yelled back. Hermione dropped her beaded bag and the snacks, brandishing her wand, slowing stepping toward's the guy who was still edging toward's the car.

"Come on, you idiot! Get the girl over here!" his partner hollered, then realized they had a situation on their hands.

The next part happened so fast it was a haze of memory. However, she pulled together enough to put together a semi-coherent statement later on when she'd regained consciousness.

Hermione cast a stunning spell right as a bullet ripped into her right shoulder. The spell spit from the end of her wand, knocking out the man with the gun and the girl at the same time, blasting them further than a normal stunning spell should have. She didn't have time to process anything else, another spell on her lips just as a second shot rang out, and a second later, a blinding pain ripped into her side, causing her to drop her wand and stagger back at the brilliant splash of pain. A third shot rang out, and she winced as the bullet passed so close to her ear she felt the wind rush by.

She clutched her shoulder as she dropped to her knees, reaching for her wand. She grabbed it and rolled, trying not to scream as the pain bit into her like a thousand vipers, and another gunshot hit the ground less than a foot from her head.

There was no cover, and it was too far to make it behind anything. She'd have to try and cast.

Rising to her feet shakily and taking aim, another shot hit her upper left thigh just as she raised her wand, and she collapsed into the dirt, moaning, blood spilling from the wounds as her forehead hit the ground, the edges of her vision threatening blackout. She moaned, hearing the squeal of tires on the pavement as she rolled to her side, agony her only friend.

From her perspective, she could see the man she'd downed, stunned, hopefully still alive. Beyond that was another figure. She assumed the one that had been talking to the other in a similar sedan. The girl was nowhere to be seen.

"Fuck," she moaned, "fuck fuck, fuck."

She scrabbled for her wand with her left hand and couldn't find it. She must have flung it when she fell. Instead, she focused on her wounds, pushing up her right sleeve with her left hand and folding it over the bullet wound in her shoulder to soak up some of the blood, which almost caused her to pass out again from the pain. Grasping at her right side, it seemed she'd only been grazed there. Her left thigh screamed in agony. She knew she wouldn't be able to walk even if her head wasn't pounding, dizziness threatening to swamp her thoughts.

Her head throbbed fiercely, and she fought to stay conscious.

A door slammed, and she was greeted by the sight of the trucker exiting his vehicle, half-dressed. Taking in the scene, he yelled, "OH my God!" and raced towards her, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his front bibs pockets, tossing them aside with a swear and getting on a cell phone, pressing buttons to get the emergency number.

She simply recalled hearing him talking to a dispatcher as she faded in and out of consciousness. The man was trying to ask her questions, but it felt like she was hearing him through deep water. The last things she remembered from the moment until she came to in the ambulance were lights and sirens descending on the area, lights flicking on in the distance, and what sounded like shouting and dogs barking.

"The girl," she gasped out, the pain so great she finally allowed it to pull her under into sweet darkness.


End file.
